


Oz Meet World

by Ragingstillness



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: #FluffNotFear, F/M, Original Characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingstillness/pseuds/Ragingstillness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a redemption fic I wrote for Zelena with soulmates, realm crossing, and hopefully a bit of humor. Please read and review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter one:

She’d been in this cell for three days. Three alternating period of light and darkness spent in the tiny twenty-five foot square space. It was about eight on the third night and that familiar sensation had struck her again. Zelena stood and began to pace a track in the floor already worn black by her boots. Her left hand went up to her chest and gently rubbed the space between her collarbones where her pendant had once rested.  
Ever since her little sister had ripped it from her neck there had been, not quite a feeling, but an absence inside Zelena. Something was not there that should be. However, she wouldn’t go as far as to label her discomfort as an emotion. She had always had difficulty feeling emotions. It wasn’t until a certain lesson of Rumplestiltskin’s that she had truly figured out why. 

Rapid footsteps suddenly sounded in the halls of the sheriff’s station. Zelena stood up straighter, awaiting whomever felt the need to run around at this hour of night. Sheriff Emma Swan burst in through the door and swept her head from side to side, a fearful franticness to her eyes.

“Looking for something, Savior?”

Emma’s eyes locked on Zelena. “Have you seen Regina?” 

Zelena furrowed her brow. “No I haven’t, why?”

“Darn where could she be?” Emma whispered, clearly unfocused on the conversation. 

Zelena asked again, louder this time. “What’s going on, Savior?” 

Emma looked up and a strange emotion crossed her face. Was that guilt? The shield of anger quickly fell back into place and Zelena knew Emma had just remembered who she was talking to. 

“None of your business, I’ve got to go.”

“Come on,” Zelena sighed, “I’m locked in a cell, magicless, awaiting my execution date, at least you could relieve my boredom.” 

The guilt crossed Emma’s eyes again and she took a deep steadying breath before answering in a rush, “I may have kind of fallen through your time portal and brought Regina’s boyfriend’s wife back from the dead.” 

“You what?” Zelena shouted.

“Well Regina put your pendant in a magical heart box which must have had some sort of leakage and the magic inside flew out and activated the portal and then I fell through, found Marian, and brought her back to Storybrooke, but then she reunited with Robin and that made Regina upset so she left and I don’t know where she is.” Emma’s voice rose to a panicked squeak. 

Zelena stumbled back against the wall and covered her face in her hands. “Good grief. I’m almost starting to feel sorry for Regina. She just can’t escape people trying go ruin her life.”

“One of which was you,” Emma observed. 

Zelena just shrugged. “Have you checked her vault? The clock tower would also be a dangerous place to find her in.” 

Emma leaned against the desk and narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Why do you care?” 

The two women locked eyes, light blue on dark blue. “Because no one deserves to face their darkest despair alone.” 

After a short silence Emma nodded curtly to the witch and ran out of the office. Zelena sat back on her cot, rubbing her chest again as she tried to process what Emma had said. Regina’s boyfriend’s wife? It took a couple run throughs to merely grasp that sentence. Not to mention the time portal actually working. A magic leakage? Nowhere in its definition was magic ever predictable.  
Currently though, her primary worry lay, surprisingly, with her sister. Although her plans had included killing Princess Ava and ensuring Cora kept her, the few times Zelena had imagined the future after Cora kept her Regina had still been born. They both grew up together.  
How could just meeting her mortal enemy have changed her so much to want Regina in her life? Maybe it was that strange magnetism, the sense of sadness that freely displayed all Regina’s faults that one may have pity and be kind. Or use them against her as Zelena had. Alas there was nothing she could do to help Regina at the moment so the witch fell into an uncomfortable and fitful sleep.


	2. Chapter two

Chapter Two

When Zelena awoke the sun had yet to shine through the high windows and a quick glance at the clock told her it was five in the morning. She groaned. Once she was up, it became impossible to fall asleep again. What was she to do for the next three hours? Luckily distraction arrived in the sound of sharp high heels coming fast down the hallway. 

After the nightmares that had plagued her during the night, Zelena had never been so happy to see her sister’s blue dress and red earrings ensemble come through the doorway. 

“Regina!” She called, then realizing she had sounded far too relieved, followed the statement with a sarcastic, “You didn’t go evil again huh? What a shame.” 

Regina smiled like a cheshire cat. “Your barbs can’t sting me, my ill-tempered sister. In fact, there is nothing that could get me down today.” 

Zelena decided to play along. “Why’s that?” 

Regina pulled out a chair noisily from behind Emma’s desk and scooted it close to the bars before sitting primly on the edge of it. 

“Well I talked to Robin last night,” her cheeks flushed. “And he said he and Marian quarreled but she eventually gave her go ahead for us to be together.” Regina’s face darkened, a little of the Evil Queen now visible in her smile. “She also said she only stayed in the marriage for Roland.” 

Zelena clapped her hands brightly. “Oh, I am so very happy for you! Go on, enjoy your happy ending!” The sarcasm finally got a waver out of Regina’s smile but it quickly steadied and stayed on in full force. 

“I’ve come to renew my offer of a second chance. Everything that I’m feeling right now has been worth all the hard work. If the Evil Queen can be happy, why can’t the Wicked Witch?” 

Zelena’s hands fell back to her lap and she glanced away at the wall to gather her thoughts. Regina pressed on in the silence. 

“Would it be better to feel hate and jealousy for the rest of your life or try to feel something more and be good for once?” 

Zelena nodded, bemused. “I could be good. Good is easy. Doing good is easy. However, feeling love or another obscene emotion…wouldn’t work out for me. I’ll never feel those things.” 

The wall of the jail cell blurred for a minute but she knew tears were only an automatic reaction, something her subconscious had reasoned was the correct response to her sad words. She turned back to her sister. Regina looked confused, her brows furrowed and a shadow over her eyes. With her pout and the creases on her forehead she was almost comical. 

“How could you be good and not feel anything? I don’t understand. Even heartless manipulation requires the user to believe they are good.” 

Zelena sighed. “Must everything be spelled out for you?” Regina didn’t answer. “What do you feel with sis?” 

“My fingers, my skin, my-” 

“No, you idiot, your heart. You feel with your heart.” 

“Yes and your point?” 

“I’ll never feel any intense emotion. Ever.” The sound of chair legs and rattling bars made shockingly similar metallic sounds as Regina stood suddenly. Her mouth had dropped open in comprehension. “You don’t have a heart.” Zelena nodded. 

“Where did you hide it? And when did you take it out?”

“No sis you don’t get it. I don’t have a heart.” She shifted her eyes downward for a fraction of a second then gave her brightest smile. “I wasn’t born with one.” 

The bright toothy smile contrasted discordantly with the deep and irreparable sadness of her voice. Regina knew this wound was a deep one. The kind made at childhood that you never forget. 

“How could you not have been born with one? You would be dead.” 

“My magic keeps me alive. Regulates my blood flow. And before you get all concerned that stealing my magic will kill me, my nature as a creature who can use magic will sustain me.” 

“That’s good.” Regina sighed. This was becoming too complicated for her limited magic knowledge. She had learned enough to take her enemies out but magic theory had never really stuck in her mind. 

“You still don’t seem to believe me.” Zelena stepped right up to the bars and looked her sister straight on. A bit of the Wicked Witch’s daring shone against the Evil Queen’s soft side. “Rip out my heart.” 

“What!?” 

“Go on, do it. It’s the only way I’ll prove I’m right.” 

Regina’s hand hovered in the air, indecisive. Then the Evil Queen’s softer side disappeared and an expression living up to her name took its place. In a rapid jabbing motion she plunged her arm in past her wrist. Zelena winced and fell against the bars a little but remained standing, her breath coming in gasps. Regina moved her hand around a little and to her surprise felt absolutely nothing. She yanked her hand back out and found it empty. 

Ever so slowly Zelena changed her posture so it appeared she was leaning against the bars instead of using them to stay standing. Blatantly ignoring Regina she pretended to check her nails remarking, “No luck? Try the other side, maybe I just moved it.” She had meant it as a joke but was unable to resist stumbling when Regina shove her hand into the other side of her chest. Once again Regina came up with nothing. 

Regina set her jaw and sat back in her chair, taking her time to cross her legs in an attempt to return normalcy to the conversation. 

“You could have just taken it out,” she said after a while. The sheer exasperation in Zelena’s expression ruled out that possibility. She rolled her eyes and responded very deliberately. 

“I’m telling you, I wasn’t born with one.” 

“Why?” 

The one word question shocked Zelena. During the time she’d spent watching her sister, Regina had always seemed more of a take action person than someone who would figure things out. Learn something new everyday it seems. 

“It’s a very unknown fact but humans are not born with hearts. That is to say, they receive a heart the instant they are born, but do not have one as a matter of course. The catalyst that creates a heart is love. As long as someone, anyone, in the room where the baby is born loves the infant, a heart will form in its chest. As a child of a cruel mother who had something against me from before I was born, I missed out on being loved my anyone when I came into the world. The midwife had been hired for her discretion not sensibility and didn’t even bother to check for a heartbeat. Cora of course didn’t have the time when she could have been dating a king. The only love I ever knew was my adoptive mother’s, but she died before I could remember her and it was too late then anyway.” 

Zelena’s voice had taken on that biting edge, so caustic and yet so defensive it didn’t protect as well as it could have. Especially for Regina’s discernment when she knew firsthand how embarrassing it felt to tell your own horrible life story when you knew the audience wouldn’t care. On the contrary, her heart ached for her sister, having never experienced love. As the saying goes, better to have loved and lost than never loved at all. Cora ruined the lives of both daughters. 

Joy was still burning through Regina but it was dulled knowing the last of her family would never understand how joy felt. How to get her sister a heart? Regina had never come across someone born without a heart and no one with two who might be willing go donate. 

Suddenly the image flashed through her mind of Snow’s heart. Of the true love between Snow and Charming allowing Regina to split Snow’s heart in half and give half to her and half to her husband. That was it. Someone would have to split their heart out of love and give Zelena half. Regina would do it herself but the darkness in her heart would probably not be beneficial to her sister’s psyche. So true love then. 

She glanced over at Zelena. Her sister was seated back on the cot, her back against the wall, but still turned slightly towards Regina. One leg was tucked up next to her on the bed while the other swung in sharp strokes off the side. She had folded her arms and every muscle was tight, exuding great exasperation and also fear. As Regina watched, a strand came loose from the complicated twist on Zelena’s head and she blew hard out of her lips to push it away, shaking it violently behind her ear. This might not be very easy.


	3. Chapter Three

How again had the Evil Queen found love? The answer hit Regina hard and she sat up straight, jouncing the chair. Zelena glanced over at her and gently tucked the errant hair back with her hand. Tinker Bell! Pixie dust had led Regina to her soulmate in an invisible stream of light. They wouldn’t have to go looking for a soulmate, she could just instruct her sister to follow the pixie dust. 

Regina was about to share the great news when she realized her sister didn’t even know the beginning of what her plans were. She cleared her throat and Zelena looked over again. “I have a plan to get you a heart.” When Zelena started to protest she held up a hand. 

“It will be another way to use that second chance I offered.” Silence. “During the previous year in the Enchanted Forest, Snow was forced to cast the Dark Curse in order to get us home. To do so one has to crush the heart of what they love most. In this case, her husband. However, they are both alive and well now because Snow asked me to split her heart. The power of True Love between them enabled me to give each half a heart and allow them both to live, happy as ever.” 

“Let me forestall you sis. As my second chance, which I still have not agreed to take, don’t know where you got that idea, you want me to find True Love and convince my soulmate to split their heart with me? That’s never, EVER, going to happen.” 

Regina leaned forward. “And why not?” Her sister snorted and began ticking off the reasons on her fingers. “Because I’m the Wicked Witch, because I hate everyone, because I don’t have a heart, the list goes on and on. I’m also not that interested in tying myself to someone who will ultimately just become a way for other people to hurt me.” 

“Aww, you do care.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I am serious though. Had someone told me thirty years ago that I would find True Love in a forester I would have laughed my head off and responded similarly. ‘But I’m the Evil Queen, but I hate everyone, but I have a broken heart.’ We of all people should know crazy things are possible. I’m going to go get a friend of mine, Tinker Bell. She’s a fairy and with her pixie dust we can find your soulmate instantly. If I can convince her to help. Meanwhile, you decide if you are willing to go through with this. I’ll have your answer when I come back.” Regina left the room with the echoing taps of her heels. 

True love? A heart? Zelena’s plan had always involved being loved, not loving, which True Love seemed to imply. The pixie dust probably wouldn’t even work and she could wallow peacefully in her depression. Besides, what experience did she have with love? An abusive father, a decade of torment, abandonment, revenge. She wouldn’t know how to love and would undoubtedly make a mistake. Oh great. Now she was actually considering it. 

Footsteps came again down the hallway, two pairs of shoes this time. Regina reentered with another woman. She was a petit blonde wearing a black pencil skirt, long sleeved dark gray shirt, and a green scarf. Green, maybe that was a good omen. 

With a wave of her hand Regina unlocked the cell door and gave her sister a look that half begged her to come out and half wanted to keep her imprisoned forever. Zelena chose the former and stepped slowly out, focusing her gaze on the blonde. The woman, Tinker Bell, Zelena remembered, turned to Regina and their eyes had an unspoken debate, erasing the last vestiges of uncertainty about the agreement.

Tink turned back to Zelena. “Ready?” She asked. Zelena rolled her eyes. “Let’s get this failed mistake over with.” Tink pulled out her wand and waved it over the witch, a puff of light green pixie dust following the motion. The stream swirled around Zelena then sank into the floor. The room was silent. Zelena threw up her hands in disgust and made to turn away. The look in her eyes broke Regina’s heart. It was utterly hopeless, resigned to a fate worse than death but with the recognition of having experienced such darkness before. 

Suddenly the bust rushed back out of the floor and whipped around the witch, sending her strawberry hair flying in every direction before rushing out of the station. The three women raced outside just in time to see the trail fly out of town, hit the town line with a smack, then push through like a needle into a balloon and fly onward out of sight. 

“What does that mean?” Zelena questioned, her armor of cynicism already blocking out hope. 

Regina spun to her sister, the very emotion shining in her eyes. “You have a soulmate. He just isn’t in Storybrooke.”


	4. Chapter Four

The General Council of What to do When Bad Things Happen plus one witch sat outside of Granny’s, discussing a plan of action. While the Charmings and Regina happily compiled a list of supplies to survive in the real world, Zelena was quietly distant, a strawberry lemonade in her hand, the straw continuously pressed to her lips so she wouldn’t have to speak. This proved futile as Regina forcibly included her in the conversation. 

“We’re going to have to figure out a way for you to get back to Storybrooke once you leave. Snow and Charming’s Dark Curse changed the rules of the town line. Now if you leave, you can’t return.” 

“Do we have to?” Emma moaned. “Why can’t we just leave her in peace?” 

Regina glared at the Savior but before she could respond Henry spoke up. “I’d miss her. She may be a villain at the moment but she’s family. Some of the only I have left on Mom’s side,” he said, obviously referring to Regina.

Zelena didn’t dare smile but she hoped the boy knew how much that meant to her. That someone still cared. 

“I have an idea,” Snow said. “But it’s very, very, risky.” Everyone turned their attention to her. “Gold. He might have something and he’s helped before.” 

“Are you kidding?” Regina cut in. “He’ll kill her on sight!” 

“Perhaps not.” Zelena tossed the lemonade into a trash bin and readjusted her chair. “The Dark One likes deals. I just might have one with enough pull to convince him.” 

All eyes were on her now, astonished. She gazed nobly at them, radiating confidence. When no one spoke she clapped her hands and leaned her elbows on the table. “That problem is solved. Onwards to the next one. How am I even supposed to find the person I’m looking for? There’s no magic in the outside world so I won’t be able to follow the dust.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. True, the outside world does not produce its own magic but anything introduced to it from Storybrooke will have the same effects if would in those places. The rules for portals are fuzzier and have many exceptions.” Charming actually spoke up to answer. 

Zelena nodded, standing abruptly. “Let’s go to Gold’s.” 

“Now?” Charming asked. 

“Yes now. As much as you want me out of your town, I want to leave even more.”

The entire party minus Emma and Henry, in order to protect the boy from any violence that might occur, arrived at Gold’s shop within a few minutes. Without even glancing at the open/closed sign, Zelena swung open the door roughly. Somehow managing to saunter in flats, she went right up to the counter and smiled at a surprised and furious Rumplestiltskin. Before he could rage at her Zelena thrust right into her request. “I’m going to cross the town line and I need a way to get back. If you have anything to accomplish that task, I want it.” 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just murder you here and rid you of any needs or wants.” 

“A deal.” 

“I am never dealing with you again.” 

“Not even if you get to make a mockery of me in front of as many people as you like?” Regina raised an eyebrow in the Charmings’ direction. Gold leaned forward on the counter, mirroring the witch’s posture. 

“And how would I do that dearie?” 

“Regina has decided to give me a second chance and in real hero fashion this includes a quest for True Love.” Rumple almost broke into a fit of laughter right there but Zelena rushed on with her offer. “If you give me what I need, I will tell you and whomever else you want Every. Single. Detail. Of. The trip.” The Dark One’s eyes lit up sadistically. Zelena smiled at him again. “I made you crawl, now’s your chance to make me crawl.” 

Rumple returned the smile although with much more venom and reached under the counter, setting a scroll atop it and pushing the object towards Zelena, apparently still too full of strong emotions towards the witch to touch her. “Open this while standing at the town line on the return trip. We have a deal.” 

Just to spite him Zelena blew a kiss and flounced back out with her entourage. Once they reached the town line she turned to her sister. “If magic brought from Storybrooke works in the real world may I have my pendant back? Or has opening the time portal stripped it of its magic forever?” 

“The time portal opened because my heart box tried to incorrectly contain your magic and it slipped out. However, not all of it left and what did was mostly reabsorbed when Emma and the one handed wonder returned to this time,” Regina explained. 

Ignoring the horror struck expressions of the others, she made a waving motion with her arm and held her hand out to her sister, the pendant in her palm. When Zelena reached for it, Regina closed her fist and turned her hand over, magic shining through the cracks of her fingers. Zelena was forced to reverse her own hand to receive the gift, something she did with no little frustration. The chain rolled like gold coins across her knuckles until Zelena found the clasp and connected the pendant around her neck. 

She frowned and her hand shot up to cover the jewel. Something was wrong. Some sort of spell had affected the pendant and was making her magic almost inaccessible. Her face when she looked up at her sister reminded the assembled audience that while she had the self-control to remain docile, there had been a plethora of reasons she was the Wicked Witch. Her question was clear. 

“I put a spell on it. The magic will be just enough to find you transportation and send any supplies you may need to a safe place in the outside world but afterwards you have a daily limit and can only access your full magic in an emergency,” Regina clarified. 

Zelena sighed and rolled her eyes. Regina’s eyebrows went up imperceptibly. She hadn’t expected Zelena to acquiesce without a fight but perhaps a couple weeks without any magic had desensitized her to the lack of it. 

Waving her hand with extraneous drama, Zelena’s familiar verdant magic swirled in front of her and a black motorcycle appeared. “Huh.” She mused. “Not enough magic to make a car I suppose.” Another wave of her hand and there was a rattling noise from the bags attached to the back, obviously now full of supplies magically compressed for the trip. One final wave and her dirty prison clothes were replaced with a leather ensemble more fit for her mode of transportation. Spinning the helmet once around her wrist, Zelena attached it to her head and mounted the bike, turning as Regina approached. 

“Good luck. As cheesy as it sounds, I believe in you. Come back soon. We’ll be in contact.” 

Zelena gave her sister one last nod and the parting phrase, “See you around sis” before revving the engine and smashing through the town line with one last whoosh. When she looked back, all that remained was a road leading on to nowhere.


	5. Chapter Five

It was queer to follow a stream of green dust no one else could see. Its light remained constant in boldness through day and night. The dust flowed in a wavy line about a foot above head height but kept a constant direction of Southwest. The dust seemed to be crawling like the tickling fingers of a sibling up the left arm of America.

Zelena had left around one in the afternoon and rode the bike all the way to ten thirty at night but by that time the trail of dust had not dipped any lower in height indicating rather clearly she had a lot further to go. It did seem too easy for finding a soulmate to be a one day job. 

Zelena had crossed several borders, finding herself in the Clearfield borough of Pennsylvania looking for a place to sleep. When she finally reached the West Side a pastor locking up the United Methodist Church for the night called out to the lone rider. 

“Where are you going so late at night?”

Zelena approached the man and got off the bike, rubbing soreness out of her legs. “I’m just looking for a place to sleep. My trip is turning out longer than I expected.” 

Generally she wouldn’t even have graced the man with a response but nine hours of straight biking took too much out of her. The young girl living in Oz came out from her spot behind the Witch and sat squarely in Zelena’s consciousness. 

The pastor smiled. “Our church often services the homeless so we have a few beds prepared. Would you like one? We never charge and you look much too tired to reach any hotel.”

Zelena nodded gratefully to the man and picked up her bag. It was mighty refreshing to be judged by appearance alone and not by reputation. 

She walked behind the pastor under the creamy stone arches of the main tower to a set of automatic double doors, the shiny black of their metal contrasting with the stonework of the church. Inside was a typical setup of dark wooden pews and a half oval stain-glass window over which was superimposed a simple wooden cross. The right wall was uncovered the lights behind the back wall painted it a yellowish cream. The left wall however included an impressive set of silver organ tubes in a wooden frame similar in color to the pews. 

Along with various pieces of religious imagery the main room included two flags on either side of the altar one of them the American flag itself. Zelena did not have time to make out the other flag as the pastor moved swiftly to the left side and through a door near where they had entered. 

The next room was of medium size and well lit with intricate lamp holders set in the walls at regular intervals. The holders themselves were obviously meant to seem old but were actually just imitations. Other than the lamps the room only contained a series of beds the kind commonly found in boarding school dormitories. The pastor stepped a couple of paces into the room then turned to Zelena. 

“Any bed you wish to use is yours for the evening. I’m afraid we don’t provide breakfast although there are some very nice restaurants in town. I will be moving around the church getting ready for the next mass at around 7 o’clock. The noise will probably wake you I am sad to say. Is that a feasible time?” 

“Absolutely. Thank you so much.” 

The pastor nodded and left the room the way he came but not before tapping Zelena on the shoulder and saying pleasantly, “Good night.” 

Alone in the room, Zelena set her bag down upon the closest bed and waved her hand, opening the clasp and allowing various toiletries, a change of clothes, and an extra pillow to float out and lay themselves on the bed. She found a bathroom adjourning her room and brushed her teeth and changed her clothes, thankful the room didn’t have a mirror. Her avoidance of mirrors stemmed from the little glimmer of magic that would always flash across her eyes as a child and how her adoptive father hated the sight of it, ridding the house of mirrors within a month. 

She set the bag on the floor with the appropriate amount of stuff set beside it to not arouse suspicion as to the size of the container. Wearily casting a mild protection spell around herself, she laid down on the bed, pulling the blankets up on her shoulders and hugging the pillow. This habit was also left over from her childhood nights of sleeping alone and wishing for a warm body to hold. 

Closing her eyes on the bad memories, Zelena fell quickly asleep. 

The desire to escape childhood memories seemed to have been in vain for no sooner had she fallen asleep than she was suddenly an eight year old again walking up to her (adoptive) father’s house. Her flaming red hair, which already reached the middle of her back at that point was pushed up and secured under a floppy gray hat that had once been brown before it became so old that even its color died. 

The rest of her meager dress was in a similar state of despair. Her bare feet padded slowly up the stones set in the grass up to the shack, taking an incredible amount of time due to the weight of the sack over the small girl’s back. After a period of Herculean effort she made it to the front of the house but expended even more effort going around to the back door, hoping to avoid her father. 

The sack was shifted to her hands and the door eased gently open. The little girl’s light blue eyes set immediately upon the crumpled figure she could see through opening that connected the kitchen to the dining room. They lit up with the smallest of lights in a sort of despairing joy. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer his wrath tonight. 

The sack was set down on the floor and the foodstuffs set out upon a small back table or in cupboards. Then came the scary part. The eight year old stretched out her hands in intense concentration and ever so slowly beckoned the beer mug in her father’s hands towards her. It inched out of his grasp, halting in midair by the girl’s command every time her father twitched. 

Finally she got it into her own hands and scurried outside to rinse it out with water from the pump and fill it with clean water. She walked back into the house and, grabbing pieces of food as she moved through the kitchen, set the contents of her arms upon the table for her father when he woke up. 

She then walked back to the bag and pulled out a wad of money. She made the money doing small odd jobs for the townspeople who were only too happy to assist the poor drunkard’s daughter who they felt helpless to aid in any other way. 

The girl pushed aside her skirt and stared at her knees, rubbed red from kneeling on the floor of the game hunter’s shop, scrubbing the floors. Those red marking had earned her the money. She would put some of it into her secret stash under the floorboards but ever since her father had found out about her working, he had demanded the money for himself. So she gave him some. 

She was a good daughter. She was the one who worked but her father was her father and he wanted the money. The last few months she had given him all of it. Then she turned eight and realized that giving him money made him drink more and more of that strange brown liquid he liked so much. 

And the brown liquid made him hit her when she did magic. So with her child mind she decided to take away everything that brought her pain. 

Not giving money brought pain so she would give it. Giving lots of money brought pain too so she would give some of it. Doing magic brought her pain so she stopped doing it when he could see it. 

The red on her knees would be dedicated to paying for a journey to find a new mom but some of it would also be dedicated to bringing her more pain. She would just have to avoid as much of it as she could until there was enough money under the floorboards. She didn’t remember her mom very well but the faint memories were always happy and her father had never been so pleased with his life. Naturally, a new mom would bring the happy back and get rid of the pain. She certainly hoped so. 

The memory ended and the dream shifted, bring Zelena to a common landscape she preferred to avoid. Now she was her current age and at the height of her power, standing among the trees of Storybrooke’s forest, watching the death of Rumplestiltskin’s son. Both he and the Savior were there, crying over the dying man. Deviating from the actual events that had occurred, they both turned to look at her. 

“How could you?” Emma yelled, tears falling traitorously down her cheeks. The Savior was usually so composed and even through the wicked satisfaction Zelena felt from doing the deed, there was a sense of alarm seeing the natural order so destroyed. 

Emma shook her head from side to side, scattering the tears across the fall leaves. “You’re a monster! Not even human anymore! No wonder you don’t have a heart!” Here the dialogue changed slightly from the general recurring script. “No one would ever give you their heart because who would ever love a murderer!” 

Rumple’s face also rose, The Dark One fully present in his eyes which were steadily becoming unnaturally black. “I’ll kill you, Witch! I’ll rip you to shreds!” Zelena’s dream self flinched. 

Then even Neal turned his head to stare into the Witch’s eyes, not speaking at all but his eyes conveying a deep, deep sadness over how he would be deprived of his life and his loved ones. A tear dripped down his cheek and he turned away. 

The forms of Emma and Rumple then twisted and morphed into a single mass which soon consolidated itself into the very eight year old of the previous dream. Young Zelena held Neal’s head gently in her lap then turned to her older self with tears running unabated down her cheeks. 

“What have you done to me?!” 

The scene went dark rapidly and Zelena found herself clawing back at consciousness, the sounds of someone moving through the church waking her. Her entire body was shaking on the bed, the pillow strewn violently across the room. 

She reached up a trembling hand to her face and found you didn’t seem to need a heart to cry.


	6. Chapter Six

By the time Zelena entered the main hall of the church to thank the preacher for his hospitality her tears had dried, but the dream was harder to shake. Dreams experienced by people with magic tended to have greater meaning than those experienced by the non-magical community. Generally they were memories, prophesies, or reflections of some sort of mental state. Zelena would have bet the endless amount of money her full magic could produce that the third one applied to her situation. 

While she had paraded into Granny’s and gloated about Neal’s death at the time it had also been a strange way of confirming her reality. By seeing the horrified expressions on the fairy tale denizens’ faces the truth of Neal’s death was confirmed.

Zelena enjoyed blaming her failure to succeed in her plan on the confusion she had felt afterward and previously it had been just in playful self-pity. However, now she could believe that Neal’s death really might have effected her psyche enough to derail her mind from its goal. 

Zelena found the preacher wiping down the altar with a wet cloth and instead of approaching him directly she walked through the pews to the center aisle and stood in front of him. She wasn’t particularly religious, but it felt like the right thing to do. The preacher looked up and greeted his guest with a soft smile that she returned with dubious success. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked. 

“Very well, thank you. My stuff’s all packed in the room I just wanted to thank you for offering me a bed for the night before I leave.” 

This man had accepted her without judgement, without reluctance. There was no need for sarcasm in a heartfelt expression of gratitude. 

“You are very welcome. I hope you have a safe journey. Bless you.”

Zelena’s eyes widened. According to the little she knew about Earth religions, being a murderer meant you went to hell. There was definitely an irony in blessing the most mortal of sinners. Despite her predisposition to appreciate only the irony, Zelena couldn’t help but feel a rebellious twinge of pleasure when she was blessed. 

She nodded to the kind preacher and grabbed her bags from her room before exiting without looking back. She mounted the bike and glanced up at the sky, the green fairy dust trail appearing right before her eyes, stretching off into the distance. It had changed direction but looked as strong as ever. Sighing at its persistence, she kicked off of the curb and roared off on the bike.

Zelena had to admit, she enjoyed riding the motorcycle. It sped up easily and she could feel the road thrum under the wheels like she was riding across the grooves of a record player. It was also black, a color she had always enjoyed, and felt a little like riding her broomstick. Oh, that had been the life, flying over the verdant forests of western Oz, whooping like a wild animal when she was sure no one was in earshot. 

Highway Eighty flew by beneath her wheels but around four hours in with no sign of change in the direction of the dust, Zelena was regretting not eating breakfast in town. She got off the highway at the next exit and purchased some food but thankfully the dust seemed to understand it was a pit-stop and didn’t move in the sky to recalculate her route. She continued going, glancing dispassionately at the scenery as it passed. 

A large lake appeared at one point, Lake Erie according to her map, but miles of water became rather boring after a while. Three in the afternoon came and went but she spotted the next lake. Lake Michigan, the map informed. Now why would someone name a lake after only one of the four states that touched it? She must really be bored to be asking such questions. 

Zelena vowed to never go on long trips alone again if she could avoid it. 

Barely thirty minutes after she saw the lake a large city appeared in the distance. The green dust was headed quite determinedly towards it. Zelena groaned mentally. She didn’t want to have to interact with lots of normal people as they would be difficult to convince of magic. What did a girl have to do for a love interest that actually would know what she was talking about? Not kill people, a nasty voice in the back of her head said. In response she cranked hard on the throttle and rushed down the highway. 

Around four thirty she entered the city proper on South Clark Street. A large black building rose on her left. The building was constructed of shiny black rectangles overlapping each other until it formed a staircase of random heights. Two white spires rose from the flat top of the building, earning the building its classification as a skyscraper. If the colors had been different it would almost have looked like a tower in the Emerald City. 

The signs in the area let her know the city was known as Chicago. Zelena vaguely remembered seeing this city on a map in Storybrooke while attempting to maintain her cover as a midwife. Or as much of a cover as the truth could be. She really had been a midwife in her teenage years. 

A kind woman passing through her hometown had bowed to the relentless pleas of a child needing work and deigned to pass her craft to Zelena. Afterwards Zelena helped most of the town’s women through pregnancy, a time she kept deep inside her soul. She had been dangerously near happiness. 

Her father passed his fear of her to his drinking buddies and them to their wives, but Zelena’s expertise and efficiency earned the trust of the wives and husbands alike. Being Snow White’s midwife, for however short a time it was, brought back that sensation but it was embittered by her quest for revenge. She had been a mess of contradictions. Wanting to give in to the feeling of helping someone bring life into the world, but also being poised to hurt both mother and baby for her own ideas. 

The further she went down Clark Street the larger the buildings seemed to become, and the more glass they seemed to contain. If Zelena had to give the city a color it would be black and shiny silver. Cars rushed out of the city on their way back home early and she found a lot more concentration was needed to ride the bike properly, even at a lower speed.

She felt a slight claustrophobia as the buildings cut the sidewalk thinner and grew upwards with an alarming speed. If they fell inward or even collapsed downwards, she would die in minutes. She turned left onto Van Buren Street, passing under the teal colored L track. 

A few more streets and suddenly as she passed a gray brick building she felt a rush of magic so strong she almost fell off her bike. With as much coordination as she could, Zelena parked her bike on the side of the road and approached the building. The magic was both familiar and unfamiliar. A mix of different magics from different realms had taken up residence in this building. Either it was a near stockpile of magical artifacts, or visitors from other realms had picked here as their place to stay. 

Zelena bent over the bag on the back of her bike and discreetly summoned a large wad of money, about five hundred U.S. dollars in cash. The money and bag in hand, she cast a protection spell on the bike to keep it from being stolen and entered the building. 

Inside she found an extravagant check-in desk connected to the right wall. A man stood a the desk, his posture almost as reminiscent of the military as his suit which included a cylindrical hat and epaulettes. Zelena approached him confidently as the smell of magic was present on him. He looked imperiously down his nose at her, or as imperiously as he could, being several inches shorter than her. 

“Hello Ma’am. May I help you?” 

She smiled pleasantly at him then morphed it ever so slightly to the Wicked Witch’s insane grin, a talent she had perfected during her years in Oz. To his credit, his eyebrows only rose slightly as the danger he was in became a little more apparent. 

“I was wondering if you had a suite open?” She paused. “I just arrived….in the area and need somewhere to stay. I am quite well prepared to pay any price.” 

The man nodded ever so slightly, understanding her subtextual meaning. He turned to his computer and pulled up a couple tabs. 

“We have several openings. What kind would you like?” 

“Just one bed, preferably a queen with a separate kitchen. Also, are there any not on the first floor?” 

“I have just the room for you ma’am. It is a third floor suite, queen bed, kitchen, living room, and a view out the front. It is a corner suite. Is that to your liking?” 

“It’s perfect. How much a night?” 

“$300.” 

“Done.” 

She set $300 on the counter, purposely making the snooty guard pick it up himself. He put it into a safe then handed her a key. 

“Enjoy your stay.”

She had already walked off when she heard the remark and merely waved a dismissive hand behind her. The building was quite large and at any other time Zelena would have explored every inch, especially the hallway labeled “Pool,” but it was almost six and she hadn’t sleep for quite a while or eaten. Thus, she merely climbed the stairs to the third floor and opened room 46. 

She barely even registered the features of the room before locking up, throwing her bag on a chair, and collapsing on the bed.


	7. Chapter Seven

Zelena’s curiosity got the better of her and woke her up mere hours after she had fallen asleep. A glance at the convenient digital clock on her bed stand informed her it was now seven at night. Giving in to a state of alertness she pushed her body onto her forearms. 

The bed she was lying on had a large gingerbread colored comforter and several thinner clean white sheets on it. Like most inns in Oz, the staff had also provided her with an inordinate amount of pillows as if they expected her to create a fort. 

The main bedroom was connected to a hallway that led to the front door but turned a slight corner first for privacy. To her right was a door through which there appeared to be a bathroom. The colorful sea foam tiling gave it away. 

The other side of the room was not directly separated from the bed by anything but space and contained a desk with outlets arrayed right above the flat surface. A black leather swivel chair was pushed ever so slightly into the desk but also artfully turned towards the occupant, inviting them to sit and work. Once she noticed that touch the rest of them became apparent in every corner of the room.

The kitchen beyond the office space was cut off by a wall but the wall had a rectangular hole cut into the wood, big enough for the cook to see and speak to the occupants of the other small rooms. 

The walls behind her had closets built surreptitiously into them and just beyond the kitchen she could see a balcony. The room was small but not cramped and the balcony would be the biggest benefit. As this was the corner room, the balcony would stretch the length of both walls.

Zelena picked up her bag and began to array the items she had magically packed into it on the bed. Piles of clothing, money, a couple of fake documents Emma had insisted she needed, and other assorted trinkets soon were scattered across the cover. 

The clothes went immediately to the closet, hung on hangers for other days. 

The jewelry went into a safe she discovered at the back of one of the closets. It asked her for a password and with a touch of irony she keyed in R-E-G-I-N-A. 

The money she put into a drawer as it was very easy to magically produce and was still unlikely to get stolen. The documents she tucked into a black purse with green accents. 

Finding her riding outfit hopelessly wrinkled by the trip and her nap, she unzipped it and put it into a laundry bag she stored in another closet. When she entered the bathroom before even stepping into the shower she opened all the packaged complimentary toiletries as she knew it would only annoy her to have to open them later. After a couple of frustrating minutes, she learned how to work the shower and passed the next half hour scrubbing the boredom out of her being.

Zelena found a medium sized white towel that was especially fluffy and wrapped it around her body and another around her hair then scrutinized her closet for an outfit. She couldn’t dress to kill in this city but she couldn’t afford to look so weak the doorman would stop being afraid of her. Everything she had at the moment fell a bit too deeply under “dress to kill.” 

She’d have to blend in properly if she was going to live here for a while. At least until she managed to scare her soulmate sufficiently and then could return to Storybrooke and then hopefully to Oz, empty-handed. She never entertained the idea that she could actually click with her soulmate. As far as Zelena knew, murderer, witch, and apathetic cynic were extreme turnoffs in any realm. She’d find her soulmate, get to know him just enough to have a story to tell, then do something flamboyantly magical and return. 

Maybe she’d get into a fight with the doorman. Her lips twitched into something nearing a smirk at the thought of fighting someone with reasonable magic. Regina had won because she had help, but honestly her magic was rudimentary compared to Zelena’s. The doorman would probably have been trained under a master and would give her a run for her money. How nice it would feel to let all her magic just roll free. She’d destroy the entryway first, then crack the sidewalk outside….Zelena started. She’d been smiling creepily at her closet for about a minute now. 

Dousing her expression, Zelena waved her hand and both towels disappeared, her hair now dry and a two piece, blush pink suit gracing her slim body. The skirt was skintight but professional, reaching the tops of her knees. The jacket buttoned about halfway down her chest with turned up cufflinks and an arctic blue undershirt. Satisfied with how the outfit could make her look deceptively threatening and simultaneously timid, she flounced out the door. 

After prowling past the doorman with a saccharine smile, she walked outside, referencing a map for the route to Lakeshore Drive where she’d find dinner. The Magnificent Mile it was known as. It wasn’t the Yellow Brick Road, but it’d have to do for nostalgia.

Deftly memorizing the route Zelena had just set off when she felt a small vibration from inside her purse. Fishing around past her favorite intimidation lipstick and the papers, Zelena located the source of the buzzing and found it to be a flip phone. She’d never learned how to work one so Regina had deigned to give her a quick tutorial before she left. Flip it open and press the green button. Ok, not too hard. There was a small antennae poking out of one end and Zelena felt it press hard against her cheek as she held the object up to her ear. It was kind of uncomfortable and she wondered why Henry had been begging his moms for one when he’d seen hers. 

Regina’s voice came suddenly from the device. 

“Hello. Zelena?” 

For a second Zelena paused, then remembered seeing Emma use the desk phone in the Sheriff’s office and began to speak aloud. 

“Who did you think would be on the other end?” 

Regina sighed audibly. “And here I was going to help you. Ah well. Tink wanted me to call you and see if you had stopped anywhere as well as give you the instructions on what to do when you do stop.” 

Zelena rushed across the crosswalk, pink stilettos barely even audible over the rush of people. 

“Tink wanted to know if I had stopped anywhere?” 

“No, that was me.” 

“Oh. What does the winged one have to say?” 

“Why should I tell you? You haven’t even been courteous enough to answer my first question?” 

Zelena rolled her eyes then remembered Regina couldn’t see her. “I just rolled my eyes at you. In case you wanted to know. Yes I have stopped. The dust hasn’t been visible since I entered this city, my map says it’s called Chicago.” 

“That sounds correct. When that happens Tink says it means….” There was a pause. “Yes, yes, it means your soulmate is in the city and when you see him there’ll be a green glow around him but even that will disappear soon. You’ll have to memorize his face.”

Zelena frowned, now being herded into a huge crowd. She maneuvered to the front and walked forward. 

“Are you actually consulting Tink as we talk? Because that’s ridiculous; I can’t hurt her through the phone, just put her—” 

There was a sudden tugging sensation around her waist, a rush of air, and then a violent impact with the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter I am going to switch to Zelena’s soulmate’s point of view. Hooray, so excited. I plan to switch off between them. Sorry if this isn’t what you wanted but I planned to write them both falling in love not just one person’s side. 
> 
> -Ragingstillness


	8. Chapter Eight

Nathanial entered the Lake Shore drive rush with a sigh, bracing for the sweat of harried businessmen and the perfume of receptionists. Just average rush hour in the city. As he reached the intersection and his already large crowd joined another at the corner he spotted movement among the group. 

A young woman on her cell phone was walking through a narrow opening in the people, holding what appeared to be an agitated and nervous conversation. Looking closer he also noticed she was holding her phone upside down, still high enough that the speaker reached her ear but unmistakably incorrect. This fixating detail retained his attention long enough to see her walk out into the street, right towards oncoming traffic. 

In a split second he processed the disinterested faces of the bystanders and realized they would be of no help. He then rushed forward, shoving others aside and, finding no free arms to grab onto, wrapped his arms around the woman's waist, yanking her backward onto the sidewalk. 

He hit his back hard and had to suppress a moan of pain. The woman crawled forward a pace or two, picked up her phone, then flipped red curls out of her eyes to lock gazes with him. 

He was instantly transfixed. Not by her flaming hair, adorable pink lips, and quaint green earrings, those details would register later. His attention was claimed by her eyes. They were all at once indescribable and immediately describable. They were the color of sunlight when he woke up in the morning, the curtains closed, but a ray of impossible blue light shining through the crack between the window sill and the curtain. 

He was also struck by the depth of emotions he could see. There were surface emotions: shock, pain, relief, followed by poorly hidden undertones of indirect hatred, shame, and, was that recognition? The hidden emotions were then blanketed by a desperate fear he only saw for a millisecond until she stood up and offered him her hand, relief being the only surface emotion now visible. 

Accepting help from others led them to believe they had power over you. He took her hand and stood, self-consciously straightening his dress shirt. Putting on a weak smile, he looked up to meet her eyes again only to notice she was barely looking at him. 

Her hair covered most of her face and she already had her phone up to her ear. Flipping just a couple strands back, she muttered, “Thank you. You saved my life.” 

The words rung very hollow, as though she knew what to say but didn’t have the energy or ability to put the emotion behind it. Unlike him. 

“You are most welcome.” 

Only the most gentlemanly words for a beautiful lady. He was going to continue, perhaps send a small passing remark her way in order to end the conversation but she beat him to the punch, rather rudely turning away and continuing across the street, the crosswalk having become open afterward they fell. 

Slight dropping of the eyebrows, parted lips, forward posture. The picture of a slightly offended Samaritan. Nathanial now performed for the crowd around him rather than the single woman but it didn’t matter. He’d played his part to perfection, responding the way a normal human was expected to. 

The crowd’s sympathy rolled over him in familiar waves, inducing great satisfaction. He gave his audience a parting smile then continued down the street, his mysterious partner already out of sight. 

The rest of the walk home was uneventful. His lived in a reasonably sized apartment on the tenth floor of a building that appeared a lot more fancy on the outside than it was on the inside. The façade sported twin white columns and a lot of dark gray brickwork which turned even darker when it rained. 

Nathanial tipped his hat to the front door, a signal he was tired and would rather not talk to the proprietor. Generally a landlord would have seen that as misbehavior but Nathanial and he had become fast friends. In fact the landlord didn’t quite understand how he came to accept the man’s idiosyncrasies when he’d really only known Nathanial for a couple months. The man had come with a recommendation from where he’d previously lived but the room had been on a bottom floor and had flooded, leaving Nathanial looking for different accommodations. 

The man himself climbed the ten floors worth of stairs with difficulty, feeling the bruising on his back. The pain reminded him of the woman he’d saved. Normally he’d shake off a rude person no matter how he’d been associated with them but for some reason those eyes just kept running through his head. He tried to recall her face and was only able to come up with a picture of certain features. Hair, lips, earrings, and a pink suit. Adding the eyes to his mental image still left much of her face blurry. Nathanial sighed, shaking her from his mind. 

He’d saved someone’s life. She’d been very pretty. She hadn’t responded the way he expected she would. So what? Nathanial prided himself on being extraordinarily skilled at reading people but even his instincts could be wrong. Why did he feel like she’d thrown off all his calculations? And now that he put some effort into it, why was he still even thinking about her? 

He opened the door to his room with another sigh. A small mew greeted his entrance. Nathanial crouched down and anticipated the entrance of his Bombay cat, Michi. The animal took its time in entering the room, quiet paws approaching her owner. She stared at him imperiously for a moment then nudged his hand, signaling him to pet her. He obliged but she was easily bored and left after two minutes. 

Shaking hair off his clothes, Nathanial washed his hands and set his shoulder bag on a chair. He pulled out leftovers from the dinner he’d made the night before and began to reheat the Fettuccine Alfredo. He put Michi’s food out as well and the two ate together. Michi went willingly to her bed and fell asleep, but her human still had work to do before he could sleep. 

Nathanial took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, then threw on a pair of long fluffy pajama pants. The blanket on his bed would suffice for his upper body but his legs had an intense sensitivity to cold, even just summer breezes. It was around ten when he finally fell asleep, a book collapsed on his chest. 

The next morning dawned bright and early with the soft pop music of his alarm. Nathanial sat up groggily, almost brushing the book onto the floor with the motion. He turned off the alarm and went for a cold morning shower before heading to his closet. He picked out a plain baby blue button down with a black jacket and black slacks. The tie was also black but he knew it’d be off by the end of the day as he didn’t care for ties that much. They always felt suffocating. 

He took the same route to work he’d taken back the previous day. As he passed the Lake Shore Drive intersection, once again he remembered the woman. Where was she now? The suit made it seem like she was coming home from work so she must be somewhere in the city. Why did he care? He’d have to reevaluate his own thought process later. 

His place of work approached all too soon, the building looming fifty stories above. The front entrance sported tall neon white letters spelling out the company name. 

Marie Christine Domestic Products.

Nathanial’s office was on the fifteenth floor, the middle of the marketing division which encompassed floors ten through twenty. He couldn’t see the aquamarine of his windows from here as the architect had for some reason build tortilla colored waves into the building, overlapping and rippling across the front, each stretching no further than three feet out. One such undulation peaked right underneath his office, blocking the view. 

Nathanial spotted a coworker walking towards the double doors from the opposite direction and hailed the man. 

“Vincent, how good to see you here. How’s the baby?” 

The man, Vincent, shook daffodil tresses away from his face, revealing the dark bags under his eyes and did not deign to answer. Nathanial chuckled. 

“That bad huh?” He patted Vincent on the back and entered in front of him. 

As he entered, he gave the front desk an unusually flirty wave, causing the girl there, Margaret, to giggle and return the gesture. 

“Hey girl hey!” He simpered, adding a slight swing to his step as he approached her. He laid his arm on the desk and with a lazy circle of his wrist picked up a pen and signed himself in on the clipboard Margaret had turned automatically towards him. 

“What’s up Nathanial? I haven’t seen you in like forever.” 

He clasped a hand over his heart in injury. “I come in everyday! I would never mess up my perfect attendance record.” 

Margaret nodded seriously. Nathanial gave her one last smile and slipped into the elevator that was just closing. He asked the woman standing next to him to hit the button for fifteen and she did so. He thanked her profusely, complaining about how many floors up he worked and how hard it would be to climb the stairs. She was in toy design which convened on floors thirty to forty so she sympathized entirely. They made more small talk until his floor came up and Nathanial stepped off into his world, the marketing division. 

A deep breath to steel himself, then two hand claps to get everyone’s attention. His team looked up from their scattered gray cubicles. After some discussion and a meeting where he had secured the loyalty of them all, the team had decided to cut the cubicle walls down to three feet and to place them randomly throughout the floor. 

All credit was shared and the team members often would get up to help or completely take over the other person’s project. Nathanial was not exempt from this and was notorious among the department for having the best relationship with his team. 

There were no ceiling lights just desk lamps and floor to ceiling windows. The entire floor belonged to Nathanial and his team who had installed the windows around the entire area. Rarely was there a shadowed corner during the work day. The higher-ups had protested until Nathanial had found the natural light promoted positivity and productivity, a discovery he conveyed persuasively in a report. The windows got the go ahead the next day. 

“Alright friends. I have good news. Our previous campaign for the baby toys was a hit!” 

He waved a sheaf of papers in the air he’d withdrawn from his shoulder bag. The papers contained several promotion offers and general accolades. Without even asking, he knew his team would decline the promotions because they felt their jobs were a source of fun not pain. Since his installment as their leader, no one had left. 

Now the entire building knew of the Viziers and their leader’s perfect interpersonal skills. The nickname had come from the statement posted on the wall of every floor, “The Customer is King.” After Nathanial’s team spearheaded twenty incredibly lucrative campaigns, the head of the marketing department, Mr. Logan, nicknamed them “The Viziers” at an afterparty. Several others repeated it and the name stuck. Someone then attempted to call Nathanial himself Grand Vizier but he expressed his dislike for the name and it never took flight. 

This campaign for the baby toys was their thirty fifth in their long line of campaigns. The whole room broke into cheers and claps at their newest success. Nathanial waited until they finished then raised another sheaf of paper, this one significantly larger and barely held together with a red clip. 

“Thus, we have a new project!” 

Some of the younger members of the team gave so far in to their excitement that they could be seen rubbing their hands together. Nathanial walked up a table set up just a couple meters from the door. This table was the only one in the office without a cubicle around it. 

As he always did before a new project, Nathanial opened the file and laid out several packets of paper. He’d gone through the file himself when he got it and had gathered the papers that pertained to different aspects of the advertising process together via color coding. He also put markings on sheets that pertained to multiple different aspects so the team members would know who to pass their information onto or work with. 

They all stood now and approached the table, squabbling good-naturedly over the jobs. Once all but one had been taken, Nathanial himself picked up the last packet. This time it appeared he was on internet publicity. Well, this would require a bit more creativity than his previous work. 

The team was walking back to their desks when he clapped his hands twice again. They all turned back to him, interested to see what else he needed to tell them. 

“Gentlemen and gentlewomen, this project is special. We are opening up into a new branch of production. The bosses want the advertising pre-prepared for after they announce our new branch, however, this announcement is going to be a surprise. Therefore, we can’t tell anyone about the new division until the announcement is made. That means no surveys, no talking to people in the street, and no studies. This makes our job a little harder, but I believe we can do it. Just remember your college psychology classes friends! We are appealing to the entire public not a demographic.” 

The team’s faces creased with confusion, but the old hands merely nodded to Nathanial and went back to their desks to read the file. The new members eventually followed their example. About half an hour into the work, one of Nathanial’s new members approached his desk. 

“Ah Timothy, do you have an idea to help with my theme?”

Timothy fidgeted, “No, actually I wanted to apologize for a typo I made on a poster in the last campaign. It went around everywhere and I couldn’t fix it. Sorry.” 

Nathanial shot the college grad a smile and a wave of his hand. 

“Not to worry. Everyone makes mistakes.”


	9. Chapter Nine

Zelena strode quickly down the street, barely even responding to Regina’s concerned chatter from the cell phone. That man, the one who saved her. Oh, God, Oh God, it was real! The instant she’d turned to look at him, she’d been blinded by a lime green glow, radiating off his skin like poison. Destiny sure had a screwed up sense of humor. The first night in and she’d already met him. Her…soulmate. Zelena curled her lip in distaste. Another hapless soul to fall victim under her stilettos. She almost felt sorry for him. 

Unlike her erstwhile savior, she had quite the knack for faces and remembered his in crystal clarity. He had a blandly handsome face, straight-set nose and lips surrounded by smile lines. His hair was flat atop his head and had attempted to stick out over his face but the bangs had swept to the side, giving him a roughish side similar to that of the one-handed pirate. 

His eyes were suddenly, violently green, the color of Zelena’s own magic, of the spires of the Emerald City, of her jealous skin. Despite his smile and his words she’d seen a deep intelligence there. The kind of intelligence that’s tuned to the epitome of social interaction and wavers on the edge of conniving. At least he wasn’t a complete pansy. That’d be too easy. She would have destroyed a man like that without even using magic. This one would qualify a little bit of flamboyance. 

Her lips curved into a small smile. Maybe she would get the fight she was looking for. Regina repeated the question she’d been asking for the past minute, finally loud enough for Zelena to actually register it. 

“WHAT HAPPENED!?”

Zelena held the phone away from her ear for a second so the ringing would stop. 

“Jeez Sis, no need to shout.”

“If you’d be so kind as to give me an answer, I wouldn’t have shouted.”

“Alright fine, I think I just met him.”

Regina didn’t need an explanation. 

“Wow, really? How?”

Zelena chuckled lightly. “I almost got hit by a car.”

“WHAT!?”

“What did I say about the shouting?”

“You almost got hit by a car! How did that include him?”

A mild heat rose in Zelena’s cheeks. It didn’t make sense to be embarrassed. The stupid driver hadn’t been looking where he was going. 

“He saved me.” 

There was a silence on the other end and what sounded like a muffled squeal. Then a deep breath as though her little sis had to gather her maturity around her before the next question. 

“What does he look like?” The question still came out relatively high-pitched and adolescent. 

“Is that really important?”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

Zelena tched. “Well he looked fine I guess. As far as men go. Really though, does the appearance of one person really matter? I could care less about how he looks.”

“I never took you as the kind of woman to care more about personality.” 

Regina’s voice was still girlish and slightly mocking and Zelena had to resist the urge to ask her how she was able to judge what kind of woman her sister was after knowing her for mere months. 

“Why do you assume I have an opinion on anything of his? No, don’t even start with that ‘hope’ stupidity. I’ll be home soon, and won’t you be happy to see me.” 

Zelena hung up, assuming easily that the red button terminated the call. Regina always assumed, always accused. For how sympathetic her sister was to anyone with half a heart, well wasn’t that irony, she was also awfully quick to judge and be sure that her assessment was correct. True, wickedness was generally easy to identify and classify. But in her own hypocritical way Zelena wished to be judged by her potential and not by her past. 

The restaurant she eventually found was a small outdoor place with small red, yellow, and blue umbrellas over each table. The actually building where the food was made sat behind her, and men and women in blue polos and black aprons rushed in and out despite the late hour. Zelena found a tiny table away from any other people and quickly ordered a small plain Fettuccine Alfredo and a small lemonade. If she turned around and looked far off over Millennium Park, she could see the shadow blue, spray fringed edge of Lake Michigan. Shade fell heavily over her suit, turning the rose pink to a maroon.   
She sipped the lemonade half-heartedly and made to look at the lake again. A beautiful array of colors stretched across the sky, spilling from a sunset slightly beyond her eyesight. She had never seen a sunset in her early years in Oz. Sundown was when her father expected her home and it was always a rush to get there even near time. 

When she was twelve, it became harder than ever to hide her magic and working in peoples’ houses was a lot more risky. But she had to work to feed her father and herself although it would have been nice if most of the money didn’t slosh down into the base of a tankard. Then one day a man came into town with promises of jobs in a mine to any able bodied young man wanting to earn a little extra “dough” as he called it. He was obvious obviously not from the West. Out of work, and running out of money, Zelena had to do something. 

So she grabbed a pair of her father’s leather boots, the ones that made her look taller, threw on work pants, a baggy shirt, and finally a lopsided cap before joining the teenage boys carrying axes out of town. She quickly learned that whatever hard work she thought she’d been doing was nothing compared to this, this “True.Physical.Labor.” As the prospector put it. 

She mostly kept to herself those days, refusing a drink after work for obvious reasons, and a dip in the pond with the boys for even more obvious reasons, returning home promptly before sundown with just enough money to be broke by her father’s last shot glass of the night. 

Zelena barely remembered what kept her going all those years. The vicious cycle of work, loss, and hauling her father’s drunk body home, never really ended or changed so anyone would assume that she’d just give up. But no, her work ethic was already too ingrained and probably somewhere, deep inside herself, Zelena had hope. Maybe if she worked a little harder, tried to take the glass from her father’s hand a little earlier at night, that just maybe she’d manage to save something. 

Her goals were small. She didn’t dream of a palace or fine clothes, both of which Regina received, but a new dress, or a sharper pickaxe. How funny, to think she wanted something that would help her work more. 

Ten years and a curse later, now that twelve year old who could pass as a boy was an age-blind woman, who could watch the sun set whenever she wanted. But she wasn’t here to do that. Zelena grimaced. She was on a “mission.” Sent out to find, “True Love.” And apparently that smart looking man she’d only just met was supposed to be able to love the Wicked Witch. She dropped her face into her hand and laughed, uncaring of how crazy she looked to the other customers. He must be quite the man. Quite the man indeed. Zelena sighed. Regina would expect her to make at least some effort. 

How did humans usually meet? Zelena remembered a show she’d seen back in Storybrooke, on a particularly boring night of pretending to be a midwife. Or being a real midwife but pretending to care. In the, frankly bland, plotline, the lovers had met at work then went on enough dates that eventually they were brave enough to say “I love you.” It was disgusting. Did she cry a little when the man died? No, of course not, witches don’t cry…ok, maybe a little. 

So a job huh? Zelena steepled her fingers. She should probably try to find one of those. Creating money by magic was one thing but without the trappings of a rich woman, extravagant spending looked suspicious. When the waiter came over to hand her the bill, a sandy haired man whose name tag said, Timothy, Zelena stopped him before he left and requested help with something. The man gave her a slight head nod. She smiled coyly, enjoying the flush that went to his ears then inquired, “Do you know of anywhere around here that is in need of new staff? I just moved into a new apartment as was looking for something to augment my income.” 

The young man lowered his eyes, probably a college graduate and well used to the pain of job hunting. “Well ma’am, there is one place I know of where they might be hiring. I shouldn’t be telling you this but I’m friends with someone who works there and last night he let slip that there might be something huge coming up in the company and they’re going to need a lot of new staff. Probably for secretary work. Is that the kind of 9-5 you’re looking for?” 

“It sounds perfect, what’s the name of this place, Timothy?” 

He looked surprised at her use of his name but a point glance at his tag prompted an easy laugh. He gestured vaguely over at a group of buildings then said, “The headquarters is somewhere over there. Marie Christine Domestic Products. You can’t miss it.”


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten:

Mrs. Sylvia Reynolds glanced up over the rims of her reading glasses, scrutinizing the young woman seated across from her. Maybe young was a bit of a misjudgment. The stunning redhead certainly appeared young but her blue eyes were clear and deep, stretching back miles to dark places Mrs. Reynolds couldn’t imagine. And they were misjudging her, as so many had before. 

As the most popular and effective interviewer at Marie Christine Domestic Products, Mrs. Reynolds stood a average five-five height, sported a wispy blonde-grey bun, and liked to steeple her hands. In a word she was unassuming. However, Mrs. Reynolds thrived on her underestimated appearance for it hid her pin-point discerning eye from potential employees. Mrs. Reynolds had been doing what she did for quite a while now and considered herself quite good at it. Many of the tushes that had sat in her hard wooden chair left and never got welcomed back as Mrs. Reynolds had seen through their patronizing attitudes to their true intentions and she didn’t care for what she saw. The woman before her now had also made the lethal assumption that Mrs. Reynolds was reserved and the elderly interviewer couldn’t wait to discover what motivated this set of pitiful eyes. 

“Name?” She inquired, playing up a slight cough to emphasize her age. 

“Jaclyn Mills.” 

The answer was curt but surprisingly respectful. Mrs. Reynolds inwardly nodded. Maybe she should give Ms. Mills a little more credit. 

“Age?” 

“22.” 

“Ah, to be 22 again. You are quite lucky Ms. Mills.” 

This was a trick. Her reaction could determine a great bit of her personality. There was a flash of those dark light blue eyes then a slight inclining of the head and a, “thank you.” Huh, Mrs. Reynolds mused. Not bad.

“I see you have quite a reasonable set of qualifications, Ms. Mills. A masters in business management, skill in stenography, and a statistics emphasis on that major.” 

Ms. Mills nodded. If she was lying about her qualifications, she was a talented liar indeed. The kind of actress who could fool anyone. Ms. Reynolds folded her hands on the table, not bothering to lean forward and attempt to intimidate a woman about half a foot taller. 

“What kind of position are you aiming for, Ms. Mills?” 

The redhead blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and pursed her lips. “I don’t have much in terms of true goals. For the moment I am merely searching for a job that I can excel in.” 

A good answer but a little alarming. An overqualified interviewee who had no interesting moving up the ladder or even finding a job to fit her talents? There was something she was missing here. 

“Pardon me for prying but is everything alright in your personal life, Ms. Mills? Having no ambition is very uncommon especially amongst those looking for a job.” 

The woman visibly stiffened and for the first time her eyes flickered around in their sockets. A typical behavior of one about to lie. Mrs. Reynolds narrowed her eyes imperceptibly. Bring it on. The younger woman got her thoughts together and turned back to her companion, no longer smiling. 

“My sister and I have been going through a rough patch. I moved recently to get away from her.” 

Slight twitching of the jaw and a solid stare. Mild signs of lying yet not enough to indicate a complete falsehood. It was highly likely that the statement was true but much of the story was omitted. It meant little to Mrs. Reynolds. Her question had been answered and a new feature of her subject’s personality revealed. Mrs. Reynolds shuffled the papers on the table into an acceptable stack she would peruse later. 

“Well, Ms. Mills, thank you for your time, we will contact you as soon as we can.” 

The sly witch stood and shook hands with her partner, before taking up her purse and exiting the room then the building. That last question had been completely out of left field and no fun at all to answer. Even the small two sentences she’d given felt like too much in her eyes. Zelena scuffed her heels on the sidewalk as she strode towards her apartment. Why would she tell a total stranger such personal information? The truth too! She had been doing that a lot. It was on her long list of reasons as to her loss against the Heroes of Storybrooke. Note to self: stop oversharing so your enemies can learn your weaknesses. 

The bus ride and short walk she took happened too fast and she was upstairs in her room, sitting pathetically on the end of the bed before she knew time had passed. Zelena suddenly gritted her teeth and slammed her fist down onto the flowery bedspread. She had spent enough time feeling sorry for herself and doing nothing, ten years of it, in Oz! 

Standing, she waved her hand towards the bathroom, a white towel appearing in her hand. She tucked it under her arm and marched down the stairs, following the wooden arrow with the word “Pool” etched in it, a centimeter deep. 

A waft of heavily chlorinated air smacked her in the face with the opening of the door. The pool was thankfully empty, consisting of just a simple peanut shape dug into the floor and a hot tub off to the right. Zelena glanced back down the hallway, to make sure no one was walking around then closed the door behind her and waved her hands to fog up the windows. Another wave teleported her interview clothing, a scarlet blouse and black pencil skirt, to her closet upstairs and replaced them with a green bathing suit. 

Even before her skin had become coated in it, green had been Zelena’s favorite color. It was the color of her forbidden magic, food growing successfully in the garden, and the solitary spire of the Emerald city she could see over the heavy woods of the West. How sad it meant jealousy too, a stained body, and sickness. And the eyes of her soulmate. 

Zelena shook her head and defogged the windows smoothly before slipping into the cold water, praying its embraced would wipe all traces of him from her mind. On the contrary, the temperature shock only heightened her awareness of her thoughts. She dunked her head then allowed her body to float to the surface, dark red rippling out around her face. 

She’d been sent to meet her soulmate and find happiness like her sister had. Zelena giggled, holding her dripping hand up to her mouth. Another woman defining her happiness relative to a man, sad really. What was so unworthy about her that her attempts to gain her own happiness needed to submit to being provided by someone else? 

She flipped over and swum down to the bottom, trying to remain submerged for a couple seconds then pushing off the gritty surface on the balls of her feet. 

Long hair was really a pain, no one but mermaids could emerge from water with it looking any bit beautiful. She parted her hair only to see a set of eyes staring at her that hadn’t been there before. An ageless woman with shoulder length purple hair was slumped in one of the rough white pool chairs. She wore a black tankini, little bows tied at the ends of the top, skimming over the scrunched up skin exposed by her terrible posture in the chair. A book rested in her open palms but she wasn’t reading it at the moment. Her yellow eyes had locked on to Zelena. 

The witch tensed, she hadn’t even felt the other come in. She must have immense magic. They stared at each other in silence for a moment then the mystery woman smiled. 

“Hello.” 

Zelena didn’t answer immediately. “H-hi.” 

The smile got larger. “You are absolutely right, mermaids are the only ones who can pull off wet long hair although you do a pretty nice job of it.” 

Zelena flinched and her hands came up, as if she could protect herself physically from this assault on her mind. 

“Who are you?” She inquired, voice low and hostile. 

The other woman waved a hand carelessly. “No need to worry, witch. I’m a Augmenter user. You magic is more than enough to take me out if you needed to. Which you don’t.” 

Zelena relaxed back into the water. Augmenter users were of a very elusive branch of witchkind, able to reach amazing heights of power but for only a limited amount of time per day. In fact, the system Regina had put Zelena on was quite similar to the daily lives of these witches. She couldn’t quite trust the new person’s words but there was no value in, and she lacked the energy for, destroying them. 

“My name is Zelena. What’s yours?” 

It was awfully respectful of the other to not interrupt her when her current mind-reading capabilities must have already given her the information. The purplette inclined her head. 

“Nicene, at your service.” 

Zelena nodded, processing the name. It didn’t sound like any she’d heard of in Oz. Maybe Nicene was from another realm. She looked up as Nicene continued talking. 

“I’m sure we both know why we’re here and with magic like that you’re unlike anyone I’ve met here yet. Who were you at home and where was that?”

Zelena lifted her head proudly and lounged with her elbows up on the tile of the pool. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Oz?” 

“Oz,” Nicene stated, a note of incredulity in her tone. 

Zelena waved brightly. “Zelena Mills, Wicked Witch of the West, nice to meet you.” Ignoring the dumbstruck expression that appeared on Nicene’s face Zelena went on. “Wow, that sounded really powerful. I think I’ll introduce myself to my enemies like that in the future.” 

Nicene slammed shut her book and set it to the side distractedly, her wide eyes on the other witch. She pointed at her. 

“You. You’re the Wicked Witch of the West. The famed magic user, so powerful Rumplestiltskin himself could barely comprehend her power, the terror of an entire realm, commander of an army of flying monkeys?” 

Zelena smiled genuinely for one of the first times since she left Storybrooke. “Hi. You’ll find I’m not quite as amazing as legend states but it sure is nice to see myself through impressed eyes for once.” 

“Amazing,” Nicene whispered. “I never imagined I’d be meeting you. And certainly not in these circumstances.”

“What circumstances? With you reading a book and me swimming in a pool?” 

Nicene giggled and Zelena felt another one of those genuine smiles creep across her face. It was so comfortable to not have to impress on someone who she was and to have no acts of goodwill expected of her. Nicene was pleasant enough and she had free time. 

Speaking of Nicene, the woman seemed to be struggling to ask Zelena something but unsure whether she should. Oblivious to the knowledge of her companion Nicene continued to worry her nails for half a minute before blurting out, “What’s this about soulmates?” 

Zelena rolled her eyes. “You really should count yourself skilled, to be able to gather so many of my thoughts in one mind-sweep.” 

Nicene gasped. “So sorry, uh, Your Wickedness, I just wanted to-” 

The sentence cut off as Zelena doubled up in laughter, half dunking herself. When she had all of the humor and water out of her she waved a dismissive hand at Nicene. 

“You don’t have to apologize. I don’t say this about many people Nicene, but I like you. You have nothing to fear from me.” She paused to contain herself. “And none of this Your Wickedness insanity. Never in my life have I heard a title so ridiculous.” 

Nicene’s shrugged shoulders lowered back to their normal position. There was a comfortable pause where Zelena flicked water up from the surface with her feet and Nicene leaned back into her plastic chair. 

“Really though, what is it about soulmates?”

Zelena sighed. “You sound like my sister.”

“Your sister?”

Zelena shrugged. “The Evil Queen.”

“T-the Evil Queen,” Nicene stammered. Zelena ignored this and continued. “She decided that in order to find ‘happiness’ I have to find my soulmate. He lives here.” 

“Eww. And, weird. Wasn’t she a major sorceress herself, why would she be interested in love now?”

Zelena blew out of her lips. “She found herself this perfect little forester who apparently loves her. He’s completely transformed her outlook on the tragedy of life and has opened up her heart to the hope that love can carry the world to joy.” 

“Can you hear yourself?”

“I know. It disgusted me as much to say as it did you to hear.”

“Well, how’s the search going?”

“I met him yesterday.” Zelena glanced at her fingertips, they were getting kind of textured. She strode through the water towards the side. She tried to summon her towel to her but found there was barely any magic left in her daily amount and just resigned herself to getting it by hand. Behind her she heard Nicene’s responding question. 

“How did that come about?”

“I almost got hit by a car.”

Nicene broke into peals of laughter. “Smooth.” 

Zelena whipped around. “Hey, I don’t want anything to do with him anyway. I just need to create a large enough disaster to return home and tell my sister a pack of lies with a sprinkling of truth then get back to my comfy prison mattress.”

Nicene lowered her eyes. “Far be it for me to encourage you to follow the repulsive advice of your sister’s, but have you considered just living out here? You don’t have to deal with him and you don’t have to deal with your sister. Magically created money can get you very far and very comfortable in this realm.”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t really want to stay here, in this magic-less boring world. I have to get back to Storybrooke.” 

“Why?” 

Zelena sighed. “When I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t need to get back to Storybrooke. I need to get back to Oz.”

Nicene stood and magicked over her own towel. “Why is that?” 

Zelena paused at the doorway. “Sorry, you have to make it to friend status to know that. But rest assured, you’re getting there.” 

Author’s note: Idk how college works. Haha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, I am very sorry about my spotty update schedule. That will probably only continue. Let me know what you thought, thank you.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven:

The mid-morning sunlight seeped lazily over the white sheets of Zelena’s bed. It hopped over the edges of her legs, crawled diagonally up her stomach, and finally came to blare annoyingly into her eyes. She twitched slightly then sat up, stretching her arms high above her head then letting them crash haphazardly back to the bedspread. She reached over to the nightstand and the slim sliver phone resting there. She flipped it open and the cheerful loading screen pinged with the words, “you have one new message.” 

Zelena wracked her morning-addled brain for the correct buttons to press but somehow got the short message to play back. 

“Hello Ms. Mills. I hope you are having a wonderful Sunday. This is Mrs. Reynolds from Marie Christine Domestic Products. I am calling to let you know that your application has been accepted and we have a secretarial position waiting for you. If you could start work tomorrow that would be wonderful. Please call if there are any scheduling conflicts we need to address. Work begins at 8:30am. Just enter through the front doors and tell the girl at the front desk you are looking for Mrs. Levino. Again wishing you a wonderful day and congratulations.” 

Zelena raised one eyebrow slightly; she seemed to have received this job awfully fast. Oh, well. No looking a gift horse in the mouth. She had one whole day to craft her new identity. It wouldn’t do to enter this job as the Wicked Witch or even as the professional businesswoman she had presented herself as yesterday. 

Zelena hopped out of bed, wincing as her feet touched the cold floor. She took a rapid shower and a light breakfast, wanting to not waste a minute that could be spent on creating her personality. She was quite gifted at this art, having perfected it during the days of Regina’s curse that she had spent back in Oz. Those had been some interesting twenty-eight years. She shook her head free of the memories. 

Zelena stood in front of the mirror, gazing herself up and down, trying to figure out what identity would work best. She waved her hand and small red-rimmed glasses appeared, the clear nose-pads perfectly fitted and the frames stretching comfortably behind her ears. Without magic, such a feat wouldn’t be possible. They were the exact same color as her hair and as she turned her head from side to side, posing like a little girl, she found the person she was going to be. 

Another wave and her hair was up in a tight bun at the back of her head with two slightly curly, slightly wavy strands of hair framing her face. Her makeup dimmed a little, blood colored lips fading to a more plush toy pink and sharp black wings of eyeliner shrinking back to the bounds of her eyes. 

A white button up and brown and green plaid skirt looked cute together but they were missing something. Ah, a cute lime colored sweater to go over the undershirt. Brown leggings, a simple gold necklace and black loafers completed the look fully. She smiled at the mirror. 

Jaclyn Mills, 22 years old. She grew up with one sister and was always looking to be helpful to the people she met. Jaclyn was a serious hard worker but could be persuaded with a little pushing to have fun. She was conscious of her personal limits and always on time. Currently single, and had no experience it dating whatsoever. It was perfect. 

Laughing softly to herself Zelena made the comparison. Zelena Mills, also 22 years old. Grew up alone with an abusive father and cares for no one but herself. Extensive experience with dealing with and dealing out emotional pain. No interest in love and would sooner make up with her evil sister than deal with the ridiculous complications that came with it. Wow, maybe she’d gone a bit too far from form with Jaclyn. 

She still needed to give it a test run though and wasn’t really in the mood to stray far from the building when he was somewhere out there. Zelena hurried down the steps, easily making the trip to the front desk now that she was compensating for loafers rather than stilettos. She approached the doorman casually and smiled at his shocked reaction to her appearance. 

“Has Miss Nicene left her room today?” Zelena asked innocently. 

“No,” the doorman retorted. “It is a Sunday and while not many of our patrons are religious, few wish to go anywhere on a Sunday morning.” 

“Would you mind telling me what room she’s in?” 

“Actually I would mind that, it’s private information.” 

“Oh please, I need to talk to her.”

The doorman shook his head resolutely. Zelena sighed. She could kill him, but that would raise all sorts of hullabaloo. The type one likes to leave behind when one leaves for others to clean up but is not easy to deal with. She sighed again and gave the doorman her most exasperated expression. 

“You have a deep, old, wound on your leg caused by a curse. I can break it. Give me Nicene’s room number and I’ll help you. I’ll even do it first.” 

The doorman stepped back, seeming horrified she’d seen his weakness so easily. A tiny hint of what might have just been respect shone out of his eyes and he realized anew just how powerful she was. He stepped out from behind the counter. 

“Heal it. Then you can have her room number. But if you hurt her I’ll bring this whole building down on your head.” 

Zelena internally flinched at the thought of facing so much magic but shot back, “Awww, look who’s concerned for the people he hosts. I’m not looking to hurt her. We just need to talk.” 

She waved her hand at the doorman, feeling her daily power supply deplete dramatically, but deciding it was worth it to get what she needed for work tomorrow. The healing actually took her about half a minute, having consisted of breaking an awfully powerful curse. Zelena couldn’t help but wonder who’d have been powerful enough to cast such a curse on the doorman and what he’d done to deserve it. 

The doorman waved his leg from side to side, proving to Zelena just how old the wound was. The man looked like he hadn’t walked in decades. 

The doorman tipped his hat to Zelena and strode back behind his desk, a new confidence straightening his spine. He flipped through some papers then looked back up at Zelena, “Her room is 208. I hope you have a wonderful Sunday. Ma’am.” 

Zelena’s lips parted a little. The doorman was genuinely smiling at her, the same way Nicene had made her do the night before. How strange. She shrugged off the randomly warm sensation that echoed in the hollowness of her chest and walked back towards the stairs, heading for room 208. 

When she arrived in front of shiny room number plate, she knocked twice then heard the patter of footsteps and the rustle of clothing. The door opened quickly and Nicene gasped as she took in Zelena’s appearance. 

“You look so…..boring.” 

“I know. Let me in and I’ll tell you why.” 

Nicene quickly obliged and Zelena walked back into the suite. It was not much smaller than her own yet the bed was set off to the right of a small hallway and the rest of the rooms were all situated on the left. Small wall hangings gave the room a colorful glow as did the multicolored silks draped all over the furniture. 

Zelena ran her hand over the surface of a peach colored one and was unsurprised to feel it bursting with magic. Augmenter witches often stored their power in objects as it consisted of only a single power boost and thus had to be quickly accessible. Silks were a new one but knowing the little she knew about Nicene, Zelena was not all that surprised. 

Nicene led the way to a small kitchenette and sat down across from Zelena on a matching white wood chair. She suddenly sat bolt upright and rushed over to the stove as the kettle shrilled its cry. She opened another cabinet to balance a second tea cup in one hand then carried them and the pot over to the table. Pouring both of them a steaming glass, Nicene continued the line of questioning she had begun on the threshold. 

“What’s the story behind the game of dress-up?” 

Zelena blew over the top of her teacup patiently. “I’m starting work tomorrow and need to test out my new personality. You seemed as good a person as any to try it out on.” 

“Translation: I was bored and you are the only person I know.” 

Zelena laughed. “My, you are quick.” “Yes, I needed someone’s help, and you were the first person I could turn to.” 

Nicene wiped her tea-spotted hands on a small dish towel. “No problem. Give it a go.” 

Zelena shifted in her seat then raised her eyes to look at Nicene. The other’s eyes widened imperceptibly as she beheld the absolutely docile expression on the face of the Wicked Witch. 

“Hello, my name is Jaclyn Mills. I’m the new girl, I don’t suppose you know where I should go?” 

Nicene grinned maniacally. “Of course Ms. Mills, right this way. Do you take coffee?” 

“Thank you ma’am but I only drink tea. It’s better for my health.” 

Nicene snickered. “Too bad. Alright everyone, this is the new meat, Jaclyn Mills. Try not to eat her alive on the first day.” 

Despite all her efforts to the contrary, Zelena snorted at that one and the tea sloshed out of the cup spilling all over her blouse. 

“Shoot!” Nicene exclaimed and stood up immediately. She rushed off to the bedroom, calling back, “Take that off quickly, you’ll burn yourself!” 

Zelena pulled the shirt off and Nicene ran back in, handing her a baby blue hoodie that her new companion slipped over her head. She waved away Nicene’s rapid apologies and glanced down at the shirt she was now wearing, trying in vain to read the print upside down. After a couple seconds she finally got it and burst out laughing, setting the table shaking again. Both she and Nicene reached out and snatched the teacups from the table, holding them high in the air until the shaking stopped. There was a silence and they set the cups back down. 

Then Nicene giggled and before either of them knew it they were in hysterics again. And for a brief, blessed moment, they weren’t two female sorceresses trying to make their way in a strange world but two little girls, the purple haired one kicking the air in her fits as the red haired one continued to fall deeper ever time she glanced at her shirt and the inscription whose bubble letters spelled out, “I’m not a normal witch, I’m a cool witch.” 

“Of all the shirts you could have given me,” Zelena gasped. 

“I know, like, what are the odds?” Nicene cackled. 

They settled down slowly and Nicene gestured the soaked shirt Zelena was still holding. “You can just put that in the wash, I’ll give it to you tomorrow morning.” 

Zelena shook her head and unfurled the shirt, discretely making a waving motion with her other hand. As Nicene stared at the clean shirt in shock that mood hit Zelena that always hits anyone after laughing. The desire to laugh some more. So she waved the shirt dramatically and proclaimed, “Look, magic!” 

Nicene giggled again, shuddering at stressing her abused sides. “Ok, ok, we need to stop before I die.” 

“Alright. Back to Jaclyn.”

The two witches spent the rest of the afternoon discussing Jaclyn’s character and how she’d approach certain situations. By the end of the session Zelena felt she had quite the handle on the character and even Nicene praised her rapid assimilation of the identity. She thanked Nicene for the tea and the help and they parted on much more positive terms than Zelena had ever experienced with someone. 

Purple and pink light shone through the small stairwell windows as Zelena climbed back up to her room on the fourth floor. Her cheeks ached from laughing. It had been ages since anyone had made her laugh genuinely. The last time may have been some time during the curse years or if not then way back when she was but a babe in the arms of her adoptive mother. 

An image flashed through Zelena’s mind of her sister’s confident smirk as she destroyed each carefully placed piece of Zelena’s puzzle cube plan. Then Rumple’s powerful grin, the ageless hatred of the Dark One compounding upon his own dislike for Zelena every moment he met her eyes. 

The sound of her own footsteps disappeared. Zelena tried to move forward but her legs wouldn’t make another step. Instead she found herself turning to the side and sitting down against the far wall. The dying light shone over her face and she felt her mouth fix in a smile as she remembered once again how kind Nicene had been. The blinding block of light blurred in her vision. 

She brought a hand up to her face, tracing the solid line of her smile then moving up to her eyes. Her fingertips dragged upstream of a rapid liquid flow, dividing it like a rock in a brook, the stray droplets falling off her knuckles. 

It was strange. She was smiling. She was happy. But she was crying, harsh, bitter tears that filled the pores of her cheeks, rendering her skin unnaturally smooth. 

Her shoulders shook but no sound escaped her throat. The only sound was that of the blinding afternoon light and her shoulders banging against the hollow wall. Her smile faltered and her hand flew back down to her mouth covering her shame as the shaking turned to whimpers and gasps, stripping away all of the Wicked Witch until she was nothing but a small baby in the basket with the green bow, screaming from inside the body of a twenty-two year old, as hollow as the wall she laid on.

 

Author’s note:

I give Zelena so much grief, good lord. This chapter was a doozy to get out but I did it for you, dear readers. Also, thank you so, so, so much for reviewing. Every comment just makes my day and I think I’ve actually cried over how sweet some of them were. Thank you for supporting me as I attempt to stumble my way through this story.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve:

    Somehow Zelena managed to stumble back to her room after the worst of her sobbing fit had run its course. The experience was not new to her but it had been quite a while since she had cried so hard.

    Generally after one such fit in her childhood she would remain upset for the rest of the day as whatever she had been crying about generally didn’t have any solution and the whole situation was just the end result of pent up frustration. In this instance, however, she actually felt better to have cried. Something more than tears had made its tracks out of her eyes and she was glad to have it gone.

    The day had danced its way into night as she talked away with Nicene so there was not much left to do but put on her pajamas, green satin of course, and go to bed. After all, she had the first day of work tomorrow.

    No dreams visited Zelena in the evening, a fact she was quite grateful for; she would need no extra reminders of her real identity if she was to successfully become Jaclyn Mills.

    The clothes she wore yesterday were wrinkled so she picked a new outfit for Jaclyn.

    When the ensemble was complete it looked strangely just like the previous outfit, but with inverted colors. The outer jacket was white now and the blouse was lime green.

    She changed the skirt to layered white and the stockings to lime. The stockings faded slowly darker though, in an attempt to smooth the transition to small brown loafers.

    As a final touch Zelena put her long wavy hair up into a loose ponytail then made a braided crown to spruce it up and added medium sized black glasses.

    There was nothing wrong with her vision, it just made her somehow a little less intimidating. Her adoptive father had always hated meeting her eyes, as somehow pale baby blue resembled sociopathy more than innocence to his perception.

    Her lips all glossed up in pastel pink, Zelena struck two final poses and waltzed out the door, trying to get used to shuffling her feet rather than prancing. She tipped her new frames to the doorman, who, surprisingly, tipped his hat back.

    The simple action, conveying his newfound respect for her, sparked two emotions in her. A great desire to sneer as his weakness and simultaneously a wish to allow the feeling to buoy her out the door.

    Well, she was here to find love wasn’t she?

    The second emotion won out and she strode out of the door with a bit more happiness than really anyone should have on a Monday morning.

    She had left the building at 7:00 and it took her almost an hour to walk, but she had planned for this, unwilling to trust a taxi cab.

    She strode through the double doors, trying very hard to not fling them open with both hands, and instead grabbing the handle of one in both hands, applying gentle force to open it. She also lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, really all too used to the body language of shyness and nerves. A bit of annoyance crept into the part of her brain that wasn’t concentrating on the disguise. She moved out of the way of several people before using a gap in the morning rush to make it to the front desk.

    The girl there smiled brightly at her, bright red lips glinting that would put Zelena’s own lipstick to shame.

    “Hi. How can I help you?”

    This girl reminded Zelena of Belle a little bit too much. Although her eager-to-please personality had been quite useful when it came to procuring the reading material Zelena had needed to get used to anything in this new world. Oz was a completely different society.

    Zelena drew up a little closer to the desk, tentatively setting her forearms on it, but not her elbows. Never her elbows.

    “H-Hello. I was told to report to Mrs. Levino. I’m the new secretary.”

    For reasons Zelena had yet to understand, the girl’s eye widened slightly and she half-winked at Zelena.

    “Yes of course. Take the elevator over there to the fifteenth floor. Mrs. Levino’s desk should be the first one you see and slightly to the left.”

    Zelena nodded at the girl, a little taken aback and now slightly suspicious. She was a paranoid person by nature, or nurture, and it seemed pretty clear that something was going on that she wasn’t privy to. For a moment her mind entertained fantasies of the company being caught up in some sort of criminal underworld. She wouldn’t mind much if they were but it was inconvenient to have more reasons to watch her back. The theories were amusing though, and would certainly explain why she got the job so quickly.

    She ended up alone in the elevator, left to contemplate to herself. She was careful of possible cameras, but that didn’t stop her from sighing and rolling her eyes a couple of times to get it out of her system. If she was going to have to put up with more fresh-faced happy people without breaking, it needed to be done.

    The numbers on the small screen in the elevator blinked upward to fourteen then a moment later they were opening on fifteen. Zelena stepped out cautiously, her posture slightly slouched again and her hand wrapped tightly around the strap of her large cream purse. She had never been in an office before, but even with those instincts, something about this floor seemed different.

    First of all, the elevator was isolated in the center of the floor, walls stretching away on different sides of it, dividing the floor into a fan-like mess of sections. Also, the entire area, or as much as she could see from the side she had stepped off on, had floor-to-ceiling windows. The desks were also scattered throughout the section she was facing, and the cubicles wall were barely over three feet.

    She glanced to the left and saw a middle-aged woman sitting behind a silver computer monitor, the plaque on her desk reading, Rhea Levino, Director. The word Director was pushed all the way the left of the plaque, as if there was meant to be more to the title that hadn’t yet been added.

    Zelena approached the desk, making her steps light and keeping her feet in a kind of frightened closeness. This was easier to pull off in flats as heels made her naturally want to strut.

    The woman shook long black hair out of her eyes as Zelena approached then stood to shake her hand firmly.

    “Rhea Levino, nice to meet you. I take it you’re the new secretary?”

    Zelena gave the woman her sweetest smile, with barely any teeth, her handshake noticeably weaker than Mrs. Levino’s.

    “I’m Jaclyn Mills. I look forward to working with you.”

    Mrs. Levino clasped her hands in front of her and addressed Zelena as though giving a speech to an excitable crowd.

    “Ms. Mills, may I call you Jaclyn, we have chosen to hire you for a secretarial position in this company but I feel it is my duty to inform you that this is no ordinary job. Our company is expanding into the fashion industry, an endeavor we take very seriously as it is currently a corporate secret. In order to prevent other competitors for taking potential customers, we must make as much preparations as possible then spring on the market with no warning.”

    Zelena nodded obediently, inwardly smirking. So that was why she was hired so quickly. No known affiliations that could be found in a background check, and they were strapped for people. Oh well, this would be the least destructive secret she’d ever kept.

    “Therefore, I shouldn’t even have to tell you this information is confidential. Additionally, as you will be working for a department that doesn’t technically exist yet, we may have to ask you to take rather, unorthodox, precautions in your execution of this job. This is not to say you will not be a secretary, it will just be a bit different than anything you’ve ever done before.”

    No kidding.

    “Also, as we are just starting up, we will have to fling you into the state of panic we are all in right now with little training. I’m sorry to put you in this position but I assure you it is necessary. A woman of your credentials shouldn’t have any difficulty anyway.”

    Challenge accepted.

    “I understand,” Zelena intoned, trying her best to sound sincere. Not that she wasn’t.

    Mrs. Levino came out from behind her desk and walked through several other people working to a desk near the window.

    “This is yours. For today you’ll be running damage control on planning the event where we announce our fashion line. We’ve been having a bit of trouble coordinating everything with just a couple people.”

    Zelena nodded again, setting her bag slightly to the side and sitting down. She pulled the keyboard towards her, and felt Mrs. Levino go back to her own desk. Sighing again, Zelena pulled open the first document that was already open on the computer. On it was a list of the companies they were trying to coordinate with, her fellow secretaries, who had communicated with who, and the problems that had arisen. There were even links to the emails that had been sent. Wow, this place was very free with information.

    She looked down the list and found a jewelry company no one had sent a single email to yet. It was a place to start.

    She did a simple google search and found that the company was well-known for supplying jewelry of moderate value but highly fashionable design to some companies whose brand names Zelena had found on some of the clothing she had bought in Storybrooke. Another interesting fact about the company was that it originally was based in France.

    Cutting and pasting the email address into the email platform, she began to compose a message to the person the document had said to contact. There was a little note written next to the name, saying, curtly, “Speaks French.” Zelena kept the edge of her mouth from curling up in a smile with difficulty.

    The amount of realms that existed was almost infinite but often certain realms that were close to each other shared certain characteristics. Oz, being close to the Realm of No Magic, had shared many things including soccer, omelets, and, strangely enough, French. The language was spoken mostly in the North but Zelena had learned it from a disgruntled Northerner who had moved to the West for some peace and picked up even more whenever she had a job in the North.

    She suspected one of the reasons none of the other secretaries had tried to contact the company was because they didn’t want to use improper French or insult their contacts by using only English. No matter, she’d take care of it. A rush rose and settled in her chest, reminding her of how she felt before every plan she attempted.

    The resulting email read as such: “Bonjour Monsieur Maladra. Comme vous connaissez déjà, Marie Christine Domestic Products a une idée que nous pensons que vous aurez un intérêt avec. Franchement, nous planifions d’entrer dans le coté du mode avec les vêtements et tous autres choses. Nous espérons que vous joindriez avec nous et fournir les bijoux pour cette entreprise. Merci pour votre correspondance, Mlle Jaclyn Mills.”

    Hello Mr. Maladra. As you already know, Marie Christine Domestic Products has an idea that we think you will have an interest in. To be frank, we plan to enter into the fashion industry with a clothing line and all else that relates to the topic. We hope that you will join with us and supply the jewelry for this enterprise. Thank you for communicating with us, Miss Jaclyn Mills.

    Zelena was pretty pleased with it so she sent it off and updated the document, saying she had made first contact.

    Just as she was beginning to do research on another company, a gasp rose up from somewhere in the office. Zelena looked up and saw a young brunette sitting up from her desk, staring around. When she spotted Zelena she locked eyes with her and walked over. Zelena felt a tiny finger of fear begin to stroke her heart and she let a little bit of it show on her face, contributing to her personality.

    “Is there something I can help you with?”

    The brunette just leaned her knees lightly against the cubicle wall and leveled terrified brown eyes at Zelena.

    “Did you contact Mr. Maladra?”

    “Yes, was I not supposed to?”

    The girl shook her head.

    “You’re new aren’t you?”

    “Yes, and…?”

    “We’ve all been putting off contacting Mr. Maladra. He’s notoriously difficult to deal with.”

    The girl leaned in conspiratorially to whisper this at Zelena. She widened her own eyes appropriately but inwardly she scoffed. My first day, and I’m already sticking out. Great.

    “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.”

    The girl smiled at her and drummed her pale pink fingers on her crossed arms.

    “So what did you do? Did you send it in English or use Google Translate?”

    Zelena laughed daintily and tried to give her colleague a glance of total innocence.

    “I know French. I just sent it to him in French.”

    The other girl started a little and stood back.

    “You speak French?”

    “A bit.”

    “That’s amazing, thanks for contacting Mr. Maladra. Speaking French will be a great help. Thank goodness. I’ll send you anything I receive from them in French and I’ll let the others know.”

    “Great.” Great, more work.

    The other girl got up and went back to her seat. Zelena spent the rest of the morning thusly, smoothing ruffled feathers and taking on every contact the other workers had been avoiding. She could see why, every one required a special kind of communication. It also was a slight point of pride for her, the ability to accomplish what the others hadn’t. She tried to crush the feeling down, but it was impossible to ignore how nice it was to be considered skilled help.

    She took her lunch break alone, eating the lunch she had brought with her in the corner of the cafeteria. This wasn’t because she didn’t have others to sit with, she just wasn’t in the mood to really deal with the positivity that permeated the building like poison gas so she let the tiniest crack appear in her mask and her true intimidating nature shine out in a little bubble around her.

    The afternoon was also passed quietly, with a couple responses from the people she had talked to. Nothing from Mr. Maladra yet though.

    The day ended promptly at five and as Zelena was packing up her purse the same brunette from before approached her. She had a huge stack of papers in her hands but she reached out anyway, balancing it precariously on her knee, and shook hands with Zelena.

    “I’m Annette.”

    “I’m Jaclyn.”

    “Hey thanks for your help today, you’ve been ready to go from the minute you walked in. I’d love to go for coffee with you some time.”

    Zelena almost started at this, the exhaustion of the day making pulling her mask into place a little more difficult than before.

    She spent several fractions of a second to ascertain whether Annette was being genuine. It threw her to find that she was. The two of them barely knew each other yet the other woman wanted to not only work with her, but spend time together outside of work. The same warmth of when she had first laughed with Nicene manifested itself in her cheeks.

    She looked down at her feet.

    “Sure. I’d be glad to.”

    She looked back up at Annette and gave her a tentative smile that the woman returned with one of her own, absolutely brimming with pleasure. She gave Zelena a wave then practically skipped out the door, leaving the Wicked Witch of the West swaying on her feet, looking as if a house had just fallen on her.

**Author’s note:**

**It’s been a while hasn’t it dear readers? I have no idea how the job world works but I’ll do my best. I hope to update a lot more as I become more available. Thank you for sticking with me through all this insanity. Love you all, you’re great people for just taking time to try out this story. I do know a bit of French but any native speakers may feel free to correct me. Please R &R. **


	13. Chapter Thirteen

After a week, Zelena was beginning to get bored. Working felt like a long series of answering phone calls and sending emails, but not getting much done. Mister--Monsieur, Zelena corrected--Maladra’s response to Zelena’s first email was quite possibly the most exciting thing that had happened for several days. Nonetheless, there was a lot of this boring work to be done and Zelena, along with the small army the company had hired for their new branch, was responsible for doing it. 

    Every new hire was sworn to secrecy and came in bursting with excitement, only to fall into the same trap Zelena had. When she dared to ask Annette about it the woman had shrugged and said, as though it was a Commandment from God, “That’s work.” 

    Zelena hadn’t been lying to the interviewer when she confessed her lack of ambition, but if it could get her out of this situation, she was beginning to consider accruing some. 

    She took her coffee break with as much relief as the rest of the team, although as Ms. Jaclyn Mills she only drank light tea.

    Her weekend was spent exploring the city and talking to Nicene, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t bump into her soulmate. She didn’t. But destiny wasn’t going to wait forever, and it was on the Monday of the next week that Zelena entered her floor to a buzz of low voices. 

    She sat down, then leaned towards Annette to ask what was going on. Annette flushed. Her response, when she gave it, was quiet and hurried, almost embarrassed. 

    “The Viziers are coming by today.” 

    Zelena’s brow furrowed. “The who?” 

    “One of the marketing teams.” 

    Annette stared into her eyes. Zelena just sat back in her swivel chair. “And why is that so special?” 

    Annette jerked a little and Zelena froze, afraid she’d been a bit too cold for Jaclyn’s character. Then Annette broke into a smile and folded her hands in her lap. 

    “Oh that’s right, I forgot, you’re new.” 

    Annette’s fingers slipped in and out of each other without her noticing. “The marketing division is famous around here. They’re arguably the most efficient in the company and their they’ve had a streak of successes since they got a new head.” 

    Zelena smiled, unsure how to respond. Annette filled in the silence. “Well anyway, they’re going to check in with our department today. It’s a company tradition: there’s a constant rotation between departments to work together for a day. It takes a while, and only now have we gotten lucky enough to work with the Viziers.” 

    Zelena tapped her hands together. “Awesome. It sounds great. When will they get here?” 

    “In about ten minutes.” 

    Their conversation stopped as Mrs. Levino clapped for attention. She was standing at the front of the room, looking out over the workers. 

    “As you well know, the Viziers will be working with us today.” 

    There were muffled squeals of excitement from all genders. Mrs. Levino glared in their direction. 

    “I know you may be excited to meet our company’s most popular team…” She waved her hands at the word. “…But they are our most efficient for a reason. You will be expected to work harder and smarter than you have up until this point and I will not tolerate disappointment.” 

    Zelena tensed at the tone but the rest of the office seemed just as relaxed and joyful as they had before. A silence fell, the workers still staring at Mrs. Levino. She scoffed. 

    “Dismissed, get to work. Your partner in the marketing division will be here shortly.” 

    Chairs swiveled on the carpeted floor and computers began whirring, despite frequent glances at the door. Zelena wanted to be interested, she really did, but it was a Monday, and she had been away from her magic, away from Storybrooke, for too long to be excited. She gave her colleagues a perfunctory smile, then got right into her work. 

    The volume of talk rose a bit when the glass double doors opened but Zelena didn’t look up until a seat was moved over next to hers and a laptop set on her desk. Then she noticed the shocked faces of her coworkers, staring at whoever had just stepped into her cubicle. 

    She spun from her work for a moment to see what all the fuss was about. Her spine stiffened. Mentally she cursed Regina, Rumple, Glinda, and her mother, because, why not? The tanned hands of the man next to her were ringed by that telltale glow of green magic that she’d been dreading for days. To think she’d been avoiding him only to have him sit down right next to her. 

    He was tapping away on his keyboard, booting up the system, but his fingers moved too haphazardly to be the focus of his thoughts and his body was half twisted to face her. The minute he was comfortable he would turn to her and introduce himself, she was sure. So however long that took was how long she had to school her expression to the blank, positive mask of Jaclyn Mills, hoping he wouldn’t recognize the woman on the street. In a couple of seconds it was done. 

    Then she almost caught herself and fell into her own identity. The question struck. If she wanted to get rid of this man and run back to Storybrooke, why would she hide her real self from him? It was more likely to drive him away. 

    Zelena mentally sighed. It would be problematic to have an outburst here, with so many people around. She was only so strong physically and using magic to get out of the ensuing situation, revealing its existence, wasn’t ideal. 

    In the couple of seconds it took for her to run through her options her soulmate had finished his task, and then raised his head to meet her eyes. She trailed her eyes down from the top of his head to his feet, trying to be quick about it so she’d seem more interested than flirty. God forbid. 

    The man had short black hair that partially swept across his forehead and partially stuck out like a crew cut. His suit jacket had been discarded in his office and he wore a white button down with no tie and the top two buttons undone. The shirt fit him perfectly, not too tight but still accentuating his lithe frame. His slacks were navy blue and a silver watch gleamed on his left wrist. 

    His eyes struck her the most in the midst of a kind, amused, and attractive face. They were a brilliant green, almost unreal. His eyes were the towers of The Emerald City, the smoke of her own magic, the previous color of her skin. For some reason, the last thought didn't give her as much pain as she thought it would. 

    He gave her the same cursory once over and held out his hand. She took it and shook it, unable to resist shaking with her normal strength rather than Jaclyn’s soft caress. 

    “Nathanial Thomas.” 

    She nodded. “Jaclyn Mills.” 

    “Hmm,” he mused. “Nice to meet you Ms. Mills.” 

    “The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Thomas.” 

    He moved his chair closer to hers and leaned over to look at her screen. “What are you working on?” 

    She hid her irritation behind confusion. “I somehow ended up dealing with all of the jewelers and a couple of the material distributors. Why?” 

    Nathanial shrugged, his shoulders going up in that perfectly tailored white button down. 

    “We should be working in conjunction with each other. I’m working on our internet publicity campaign. Jewelry is the centerpiece of any outfit, I have to incorporate any information I can in my pitches.” 

    Zelena nodded. “And the materials?” 

    Nathanial leaned back in his chair and smiled. “What is the biggest selling point of material?” 

    Zelena knew this one from years of intimate observation in Oz’s marketplaces. “Pedigree.” 

    Nathanial snapped. “Exactly. Our target market is much larger than just those who have swallowed fabric encyclopedias. We only need to have vaunted quality to catch someone’s attention.” 

    Zelena set a finger against her lips. “Is that your philosophy for evaluating people as well?” 

    She was teasing him. He leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees, all play draining from his expression. 

    “Of course not. Humans are much more complicated than fabric types. Therefore, they require more of a complicated touch.” 

    Internally Zelena approved. Outwardly she just smiled and turned back to her work. 

    “I’ll send you the names of the companies I’m corresponding with and if you need any information regarding their pedigree, I have some.” 

    Nathanial laughed. “It sounds as though you’ve done my job for me, Ms. Mills.” 

    Zelena offered that an utterly feminine giggle, resisting the urge to scoff. “I highly doubt it, Mr. Thomas.” 

    By the end of the day Zelena was exhausted but her opinion of her soulmate had improved with shocking rapidity. Nathanial was as efficient a worker as she was, and he had an innate sense for working with a partner, something she suspected came from working intimately on a team. 

    Together they had crafted the beginnings of several social media campaigns centered around the reputations of the companies Zelena was working with. She sent off emails to the companies in question informing them that they were in the campaign, slightly as an incentive, a suggestion of Nathanial’s, and slightly as a threat, which was her all over. 

    She didn’t know for sure, but she suspected none of the other pairs had even come close to their level of accomplishment.   
The Viziers left early to finalize some work on their own and it was then that Annette leaned over the cubicle wall to squeal at Zelena about Nathanial. And after fielding several minutes’ worth of incoherent excitement, Zelena learned that her high opinion of Nathanial was justified, as he was the leader of the Viziers. 

    For a moment she entertained the idea of the two of them together and found great hilarity in how clichéd they were. A low level new hire and the experienced businessman. Office relationships indeed. How ridiculous. 

    Nicene was waiting for Zelena the minute she walked in the door and demanded a detailed explanation so Zelena took dinner in Nicene’s apartment. They talked through the entire day, cracking jokes about the work atmosphere and the hero worship that existed around the Viziers. Nicene had made a particularly appropriate joke about what leadership made Nathanial, and Zelena didn’t think she’d ever be able to look him in the eye again without thinking, “Grand Vizier Nathanial.” 

    She was surprised to find herself not participating in the beginnings of jokes that crushed the people she had told Nicene about. Nicene herself noticed this and stopped making them, but Zelena kept the fact in the back of her mind for pondering over later. 

    Nevertheless, the dinner was pleasant and it was quite the change to have someone else cook for her and be the one waiting for the food. Zelena felt guilty and uncomfortable throughout the whole process, thinking she should be getting up and helping somehow. Nicene shot her a look from the kitchenette when she asked for the fourth time, her answer within and tinged by an unidentifiable sadness. 

    Zelena was just settling into bed when she thought to maybe call Regina and tell her what had happened. But her sister’s misplaced enthusiasm would just wear her out more. Zelena settled for texting a simple, “Ran into my soulmate at work today. We worked on a project together,” then setting her phone to the side and ignoring all one hundred and thirty six insistent buzzes it made throughout the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little meet-cute for you all, in case the “saving you from getting hit by a car” wasn’t enough. I may or may not be updating a bit more often soon…maybe…I may not update the story you want over and over, I may update multiple stories, chapter by chapter. (I’m trying to keep a chapter ahead so I’m not just pulling plotlines out of thin air for content) Thank you so much and, as always, please R&R, comment,or kudo. There is nothing that makes my day faster than a well-articulated review or just a kind comment. Find me on tumblr @ragingstillness.


End file.
